#I can't even BEGIN to yell about how terrible of an idea this is

[ozzgin]

I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol

If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!

Best wishes

-🌟

I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Fantastic show tonight!"

The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.

"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin. 

"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."

You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop. 

Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.

Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.

So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.

"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.

That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.

When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged. 

You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.

Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:

"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"

You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar. 

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.

"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.

"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously. 

As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.

You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top. 

"Should we leave?"

You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

"Then let's get you undressed, miss."

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 

[steviewashere]

Had an idea, half-wrote a fic. (as I do) CW ahead: Negative Stimming, Self-harm via Stimming, Mild Disassociation, Meltdown

Autistic Steve Harrington who hates horror movies because they're so loud and so unexpected and all it does for him is trigger a meltdown rather than any sort of pleasure. He hates loud noises, hates being startled, hates things being unexpected. Finds it hard to listen to Eddie's music sometimes, just solely based on how loud it is.

He can't take terribly long drives in traffic because of the intensity of all the sounds: birds above, cars ahead, honking and tires squealing, people yelling out their windows. Hates having his radio on louder than like volume level 5.

And one day, after forcing himself through a horror movie at the theater with Eddie (because Eddie loves them), he's driving them back. But there's long lines of traffic that make his car feel claustrophobic and his chest heavy. The radio is only a tad louder than normal, playing some Metallica tape—one that he enthused about because Eddie made him believe it was good, and it is, it is it is it is—

But it's all too much.

Cut to him weaving dangerously through traffic, wholly unlike him, heart racing so hard he thinks he can feel his blood traveling through his arteries, his veins. The car is swerving and his foot is on the pedal, no real destination in mind other than out and away. He's cutting in and out of his own body, trying to just slither away from the way his skin is riddled with goosebumps and trying to shed in huge flakes around him. He's tired and he's drawn and he's trying, damnit he's trying to hold himself together.

He pulls to the side of the road, into some half-full parking lot, away from other customers. And slams on the brakes so hard that Eddie flings forward a little in the passenger seat, almost collides with the dashboard. But Steve is so out of it he doesn't even realize, doesn't even recognize the recklessness he just put his boyfriend through. And when he can calm his breaths a bit, not very much but just enough, he finally looks to Eddie.

Eddie, who's looking at him a little like Steve's some wild animal, but so overcome with concern, it draws his features tight. "Steve?" Eddie calls out softly, too soft in comparison to himself, "you okay, baby?"

And Steve just bursts into tears, unwinding. His hands are shaking and he feels the innate urge to hurt to make the roaring inside him dwindle. And he does the only thing he knows how—emotions irregular and having been punished for it before—he cranes his neck in a nearly unnatural way, head digging into his headrest, eyes away from Eddie because he can't stomach the thought of Eddie seeing him this way, and he just bruises his own thighs with his tightly wound fists.

Eddie just does his best. He reaches over and turns the ignition off. Silences the whole car. Winds his window up, worms around to do the same to Steve's. And then he gently, still unknowing of what to do, slides his palms underneath Steve's fists. So that the next time they come down, they hit Eddie's hands instead. His face flinches minutely and his eyes begin to sting. It hurts, of course it fucking does, but he braves through it. Until Steve tires himself out, fists getting sloppy and his tears have dried. And Eddie doesn't let Steve see what he'd actually been hitting—he just curls his hands around Steve's fists, thumbs tracing over his knuckles.

"It's loud," Steve chokes out, "hate that movie."

"Okay," Eddie murmurs, taking this in stride, unquestioning. Because...well, he knows what it's like to feel singled out, unnatural about one's self. He won't make Steve feel like that, too. Won't even question what just happened. A conversation for a different time.

"Overwhelmed."

"Okay, that's okay."

Steve's fingers tighten for a moment before his hands uncurl. Gently, shakily, they take Eddie's own. His eyes are still on the ceiling of his car. Sniffles. "Freak?" he questions aloud.

"Never," Eddie swears, "that's my title and you come nowhere near it. Don't even think of touching it." He brushes his thumbs on the back of Steve's twitching hands, working their way through the aftershocks. "Let me take us home, okay?"

A moment passes. Then two. Then three.

Steve's breath shutters. He exhales easily, though. "Your bed," he says, "that's home."

And Eddie brings Steve's hands to his mouth, leaves small pecks on the backs of them. "We'll go there, baby. In your time, Steve. We'll go in your time."

"Okay."

Eddie nods, even when he isn't seen. Because Steve will know. They'll always know each other. "Okay."

———

I know I half-wrote this, but I will return to this eventually. I want to fully expand upon this idea. Just give me a minute because there's like three other fic ideas I want to do that I've posted about. My brain is endless steddie and I am soup.

[itsgrimeytime]

he's such a pretty liar || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz @deadgirlrin

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: 8 + 2

Inspiration: my boy by Billie Eilish

Summary: You and Rick had gotten along at some point, at the farm and prison. You were friends even. Until the Governor killed Hershel, which you believed to be perfectly preventable. Because of his inaction then, you'd gotten a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought of him and eventually, he started to reciprocate the behavior. But as time passes, and you experience more and more with him, is it really hate that you feel?

TWs: enemies to lovers (like fr though), yelling, mentions of death (Shane, Lori, Beth, and Hershel), mention of the Claimers scene, cursing, anger, nosebleed, bruising, love confessions, injuries, blood, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: This is based on Carl being mad at Rick after the prison. Rick do be stressed out, and he do be saying some terrible stuff, but like so are you. This gif is so 🫣💞🤭💞🤪. Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

You weren't a bad person, and in that regard, you wouldn't say Rick was either. Honestly, you respected him as a leader -you just didn't agree with all his choices. That's where it all started, after all, isn't it?

You'd seen what a wrong choice could do, you'd watched Hershel die right in front of your eyes. You'd seen it all.

And, sure, maybe you were grieving a little but you still largely disagreed with Rick's actions on the matter. It was preventable.

It started there, and only really got worse. It was like once you identified one flaw, suddenly you were second-guessing his every move. The two of you couldn't be in a room without arguing, couldn't be put on shifts together, nothing. Daryl, for one, wouldn't let you be alone together at all. And if it wasn't him, it was someone else.

"Rick, seriously," you spoke once, almost sternly, "-that can't be your decision."

"Why?" he responded -pointed and short, "-Ya got a better idea? Go right fuckin' ahead."

You knew that since the prison, Rick had been strung thin. You knew that he had been harder on himself than you could ever be about Hershel. But, you still were angry. Sometimes, sometimes it felt like maybe he was just a target for everything that you'd been through. And you were trying to change your behavior, change your ways.

You'd known him for so long, and you were going to be stuck with him. The group, even though the two of you weren't on the best terms, was like family to you.

And then, it started getting personal.

This argument stemmed from something small, trivial, you can't even remember it now. Maybe a decision on a run? You can't-

"Ya act like ya ain't made mistakes of your own," he added, "-all high and damn mighty-"

"When did I say that?" You interrupted, more cold than anything, "-You're putting words in my mouth, Grimes."

"-Because I seem to remember ya tellin' me about your family," he continued, not even pausing to listen to you.

You stilled in place.

"Rick," you warned (voice slightly shaking), "-don't... don't go there."

Your family. At the beginning of all this, you'd froze -scared. Watched one of them get bitten, and then everyone just followed after -not willing to grieve. You regretted not being quicker, not being more aware, but you weren't used to it. You weren't-

"Ya fucked up," Rick continued, as if he wasn't bringing up what he was, "-We all do, why do you-"

"No, no," you shook your head, voice shaking, "-Rick, that is not fair. You can't bring up my family-"

You had hated yourself for that, hated yourself. Still did. You would never forgive yourself for not saving them, even though you really didn't have an idea how to then, you should have-

God, he was bringing this up? Really?

"-over a goddamn run strategy."

"Well, you pick apart every damn thing I do," he retorted, "-'Thought I'd do the same for once."

"Oh, fuck you, Rick," you seethed, tears burning the backs of your eyes, "-you want me to poke at your wounds? Talk about who you could've saved?"

He pursed his lips, and you saw something flash through his eyes (they were trailing the now shake of your hands) that looked a little like regret. Like maybe he was understanding what he said. You felt like your skin was on fire.

"Do you want me to start from the beginning?" You tsked, a fire burning in your chest, "-Shane? Or maybe Lori? Beth? Hershel-"

"Stop," he stated, quieter than before.

"-Why, Rick?" you hissed, and you felt the tears now, "-Is this not what we're talking about? Oh, do you not want me to bring that up? Over a run?"

"I get it," he spoke, softer, and something in you sharpened, "-I get it, Y/N."

"Do you?" you responded, frustrated and just... angry, "-Do you, Rick?"

"I shouldn't 'ave-"

"Can it," you interrupted -short, "-Let's just get the fucking supplies and go."

Rick frowned, blue eyes far more emotive (all you could see was regret and pity), "Y/N, I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" You countered, and your voice was cracking, "-You didn't mean to bring up the fact that I watched my family die, right in front of me? Do you think that I don't hate myself every day for not doing anything then?"

Rick didn't say a word.

"-Hate to break it to you, sheriff, but I fucking do."

"Y/N..." he trailed off, blue eyes much calmer, the rage from before dissipating out of his voice.

"No, just-" you cleared your throat, wiping mindlessly at your frustratingly red eyes, "-Let's get this shit done and leave."

From then on, it had been much deeper.

You couldn't stand him, you hadn't been alone with him since. He made your skin crawl and your mind flare up in anger, and sometimes, just sometimes, it would shake your respect for him. Because you did have some, you probably wouldn't even be here, if you didn't.

The funny thing about it all was that you were close to Carl, very close to him. At the prison, after Lori's death, you'd nearly been inseparable. It was kind of like a parent relationship, but at the same time a little like a friend. It made you want to reconcile sometimes, but all you and Rick did was clash.

So much that you started to wonder what a normal conversation was like with him.

And then, you had the run-in with the Claimers.

God, what they'd threatened to do to Carl? You personally would've snapped their spine yourself if you had the chance. But what Rick had done? You couldn't imagine it yourself.

But you knew that he did what he had to. And some part of you wanted to tell him that, despite... despite all of your problems, you knew he needed it.

It was late that night when you decided to talk to him. It was just the two of you awake. You, on purpose, and you just knew Rick would be. Doing that was probably still rattling through his skull, he probably couldn't even close his eyes without-

Your steps were slow and careful, trying not to startle him -he just seemed to be staring. Endlessly staring, and just pacing. Despite it all, you felt something in your chest swirl with worry.

"Rick?" you spoke, gently. Even still, you saw his whole body tense up.

"Please," he muttered, voice low and gravelly -blue eyes heavy on you, "-I don't need your shit right now. I kno' 'at I did somethin' bad, really damn bad. But I just can't deal wit' ya-"

"No, Rick," you interrupted, "-that's not why I'm... That's not what I want to say."

"What do ya want to say, then?"

"You made the right decision," you responded, tone sturdy and unmoving, "-you... you did what you had to."

Rick stilled, something flickering through his face -a flutter of emotions.

"I know, we aren't on the best terms, but-" you rolled your lip around your teeth, "-you're not a monster, Rick."

The silence was loud then, as his blue eyes skimmed over you -carefully. Maybe like he was seeing a new you, or maybe an old one he'd forgotten about. One you'd forgotten about.

"Trust me, I know it feels like it," you added (mind flashing with what you'd done over the years), "-but you did what you had to. You saved your son, and that's all that matters."

He didn't say anything for a moment, trying to process your words. And if you really looked, you might've seen his eyes fogging up a little and the slight drop of tension in his shoulders. A little like he was waiting for someone to tell him that.

And then, he replied, "Thank ya."

You pursed your lips a moment, fidgeting with your hands. You weren't sure what else to say. This was all so new. With a succinct nod, you moved to spin on your heel and lay down for the night.

"Wait," he called, and you turned back to him -eyes inquisitive.

There was a beat.

"-'At day, on the run," he continued, slow and regretful, "-I'm... I'm sorry. I never should 'ave said somethin' like 'at. I never should 'ave brought it up at all. 'Wasn't right of me to."

"Thanks, Rick," you responded, brief but genuine, grateful. You could tell he understood.

Before you could fully turn around though, he added -softer, with something you couldn't quite name, "Goodnight, Y/N."

There was a pleasant hum in your mind at the way he said your name, but you shoved it away. You'd locked all of that far away, a long time ago.

"Night, Grimes," you chimed back, lighter in tone.

He smiled at you then, and something in you gleamed a little from it. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

There was something different after that, a sort of trust or respect. Or maybe something else, you didn't really know. It was there, though.

When you found Alexandria, things shifted a little. Mostly because it was your group against another one, you and Rick were profoundly on the same side. That being said, you still clashed. You weren't sure if it was just the authority of it all, or what? (It might've had a little to do with a blonde wife that he was spending some time with, but you'd never say that out loud.)

"You're seriously not going to let me lead the run?"

"I got Daryl on it," he responded, eyes solely sat on you.

"He's been on all the runs lately," you continued, trying to explain your case, "-Shouldn't this shit be evenly distributed? Have you even talked to Daryl about what he wants? Or are you just assigning us like it's some dictatorship-"

"'Course I damn talked to 'im," he snapped back, and you could see something tired in his eyes, "-everybody gets a say in what 'ey're doin', ya know 'at."

"Except for me," you contradicted, "-you keep giving me the same fucking chores, when I'm useful in other places-"

And he was, he kept you in Alexandria -washing clothes, making dinner, keeping an eye on the people. He made you some kind of mediator between Deanna's people and your own. But you were useful, you shouldn't be locked inside like you couldn't handle yourself. Because you could, and you had before.

"-You know, I scavenged for months before I met you, right? I was alone, and I figured it out."

"I know 'at," he confirmed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could nearly see the stress radiating off him, but you couldn't stop, not then.

"So, so what-" you asked, "-you don't trust me? You don't think I can do it?"

Rick sighed, big and loud -fully facing you, "It ain't 'at, Y/N. I know ya can handle yourself, I've seen it."

"Then, what is the problem, Grimes? I don't get it-"

"Just take the goddamn next run," he groaned, something in his tone broken (and something a little like guilt curled up in your stomach), "-I'll tell Daryl he's switchin'."

You stopped in place, words faltering off your lips. Your will and the fire in your gut extinguished, you suddenly felt very out of place, and a little like the bad guy. You knew you weren't though, but he just looked so tired-

"Okay," you finally responded, a little dumbfounded, "-thanks."

He nodded in your direction and didn't say a word. You took it as a motion to move along, so you did.

Apparently, he might've had a good reason to worry.

It wasn't that first run, or even the second or third, it was the fourth after that conversation that you were stupid. Well, it really wasn't your fault. You thought someone had your back, and they didn't; so, one of the walkers had clawed pretty deep into your arm.

It was bleeding a lot (maybe too much) and probably needed stitches, but you didn't worry about it. Denise could handle it, and you, as a community, were pretty good on medical supplies at this point.

What you didn't expect, was after Denise patched you up for one Rick Grimes to be on your ass.

You were still sitting in her doctor's space (you had no idea what to call it) then, silently trailing your fingers over the bandaging. You could already see some of the blood through the white of it. It made you a little nervous, you won't lie.

And then, the door swung open.

At first, you nearly grabbed for the knife you hid on you -alarmed, assuming it was someone coming to hurt you. Instead, you were met with one Rick Grimes -his face was all scrunched up in that way he always got when he was frustrated.

If there was one thing you could recognize, it was that.

"Rick?" you questioned -carefully, a little shocked by him bursting into the room. Did you do something to him recently?

"'At's why ya can't go on fuckin' runs," he grumbled out -suddenly so angry, it made your head spin.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What?"

"You're always makin' damn bad decisions," he continued, and something in you bristled. Your defenses were up in an instant.

"What the fuck, Rick?" you countered, "-You don't even know what happened, how the hell do you know it's on me?"

"You're injured," he clarified, a little like he was talking to himself, "-ya made a stupid mistake-"

"How the hell do you know that?" you hissed, "-Do you just think everything that goes wrong has to be my fucking fault, Grimes?"

"-and you're damn hurt."

There was something there in his tone, something different. Your frustration twisted into a little bit of curiosity. What was that?

"I can’t leave ya alone for one second without ya hurting yourself, can I?" He started up again, and it was there again, angry but also... but also-

Your eyes swam over him, and you recognized it then, worry. He was worried about you, you felt something in you stall. It was so different from what you knew from him-

"I mean," you responded, a little awkwardly -unsure (since when did he care so much?), "-I’m fine so it’s okay-"

"No, it’s not okay," he suddenly shot his eyes to you, blue eyes heavy with worry (so much, it shot to your core), "-Not when I feel like I’m goin' to go batshit fuckin' crazy, thinkin' you’ve hurt yourself."

It was silent for a moment, as your mind processed the words. Skimming along his face, as he seemed to do the same -frustration dissipating along his features.

That... That was new.

"It's just some scratches," you spoke -a little lost, you weren't sure exactly what to say. He cared about you that much? Thought about you that much?

Rick's eyes darted to the bandages, which were just about as dark as before -which was just a little, the stitches seemed to stop it mostly. Something in him relaxed, you could tell in his shoulders -the drop of the tension. You couldn't believe that was because of you. When-

"Ya had to get stitches, yeah?" He spoke, suddenly and a bit awkwardly too (like he wasn't sure what to do).

"I did," you confirmed, just looking and something in you felt like you needed to tell him more, so you did, "-Uh, five in one, and three in the other."

He pursed his lips (like he was debating something), before shattering out a breath, "Can I see it?"

"It's already wrapped up," you responded, blankly -you were running a little on autopilot, "-She already-"

"Denise can rewrap it," he offered, stepping closer. Something in your stomach stirred.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You want to waste medical supplies, just so you can see my wound?"

Rick's lips pressed into a thin line, something in him firing back up, "I'll replace the supplies my damn self, if I 'ave to, just let me see."

You couldn't really say anything, it felt like all the words had washed from your head. Like you couldn't speak if your life was on the line.

He faltered a second, sighing, and his eyes shifted to something softer (a little like pleading), "I... I need to see if ya are alright."

You felt like you were stone -frozen.

"Please."

Your heart lept into your throat (and you let your mind drift somewhere you'd never let it before), "Yeah, okay."

That started the shift.

And he started checking over you after every run, you thought it would've been annoying but... you got used to it. And something in you liked helping him calm down, although you'd never say it out loud.

Things were a little different. You clashed but it wasn't as fiery anymore. Because you knew he cared about you, and somewhere you could acknowledge you cared about him. (More than you'd ever admit.)

This time it wasn't even Rick you were arguing with. It was someone originally from Alexandria. You couldn't even remember their name, but they'd said something about you and you let it slide. But then, they kept going.

"You made a shit call," the guy remarked, sauntering up to your side.

You were a little startled, but you stayed composed, "What are you talking about?"

"We could've gotten more supplies," he continued, "-that gun store was right there, and you called the whole fucking thing off."

You soured -something steeling in your gut, "You mean the one that was swarmed? Hate to break it to you, but we were outnumbered."

"We could've done it," he added -persistent, something frustrated in his tone, "-we had the manpower."

"Are you serious?" you laughed a little incredulously, "-There were three of us, and about 30, 40 maybe, walkers. That is-"

"Maybe you couldn't have done it," he tsked, lips falling in a flat line.

You flexed your jaw, trying to stay composed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a sorry fucking excuse for a lead," he gritted through his teeth, "-You don't know shit about-"

"Next time, just go right ahead and do it yourself then," you shot back but stayed still in your space (composed, composed, composed), "-and I don't know about you, but I value life more than something we already fucking have-"

"It's ammunition," he seethed, stepping much closer to you -something sparking behind his eyes, "-Don't know if you fucking know this, but it's pretty damn important to survival-"

"No," you disagreed, voice calm and collected, "-it's not. You don't need to walk into a situation that you can't handle-"

Without warning, a fist flew at your face -right at the nose.

"Shit," you hissed, and you felt the thrum of pain under your skin and could almost immediately taste the coppery taste of blood, "-What the fuck? Why did you-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?"

It was Rick, and his tone was something you'd only heard a few times -blue eyes flickering over you. They held onto your, now bleeding, nose which you were now trying to soothe, and something in his jaw tightened.

The guy was the first one to speak, mostly because you were trying to stop the bleeding. Luckily, Maggie rushed up to your side with paper towels -doing her best to help too.

"They made a mistake on the run-"

Rick didn't let him get far, "So, you punched 'em in the damn face?"

"Well," the guy fell quieter, "-we were arguing-"

Maggie snapped back, shifting her focus for a moment, "You were arguin'."

"No-"

"They were just trying to talk some sense into ya," she continued, tone cold, "-You were the one who took it personally-"

Rick put a hand on her shoulder, eyes flickering toward you -something swimming through them that you recognized from a different day, and Maggie took the notion to stop talking. She turned back to you, and gently guided you to tilt your head forward. On instinct, you pinched your nostrils shut -breathing out of your mouth.

"Even if it was a fuckin' argument," Rick tsked, something cold in his tone, "-there's no damn reason to do 'at. They weren't gettin' violent with ya-"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I kno' 'em," he retorted, "-an' if 'ey got their hands on ya, you wouldn't be standin' in front of me."

You laughed a little and could feel his eyes shoot to you for a second. It made something in your chest flutter, something you were trying desperately to ignore.

"We need to get ya some ice," Maggie spoke, mostly to herself, "-It's already bruisin' up pretty bad."

"'S leave 'is for another day," Rick seemed to exit the conversation with the man, tone unshakable, "-but if I 'ear anythin' else from ya, 'ere's gonna be a problem. Ya got 'at?"

You could almost visually see the way Rick shifted as he made his way over to you. Composure slipping into something more worried, eyebrows furrowing and eyes shining in an entirely different way. Like he couldn't help it, his hands frantically found themselves along your shoulders. It made your skin buzz a little, and made you feel a little woozy. Well, you guessed there could be more than one reason for that.

On that note, you stumbled in place a little, and Rick's hands immediately slid to your sides -stabilizing you. Your heart skipped a beat, stupid fucking handsome men with big fucking hands.

"'Ey, can ya bring a chair over 'ere, please?"

Before you could so much as blink, he was pushing you into it -gently, mind you. Ever-so-gently. And almost on instinct, he fell onto one knee in front of you, trying to hold your eye contact with your head slightly forward, you guessed. His eyes were the same as that day, but there was something else there too, something fuzzier.

"Maggie, ya go get the ice," he turned to her, "-I'll stay with 'em."

She seemed to scamper off because you could tell it was just the two of you. Maybe he'd warded off everyone else, Rick had this... aura to him when he wanted to -a dangerous one. Sometimes you thought it was to balance out his natural nature as a leader.

Quietly, you heard Rick tear off another paper towel and gently wipe at your mouth (where you imagined blood was staining at this point). It was strangely intimate, as you just skimmed over his face.

He was entirely focused on the task, so your eyes roamed along the creases along his face, the blue of his eyes, the sharp line of his nose, the little curls that peeked behind his ears-

You blinked, clearing your thoughts. He was always handsome, you knew that.

"What even is that dick's name?" you questioned, testing to see if your nose had stopped bleeding as much. It had.

Rick smiled a little, looking up at your eyes from where he was focused before (he seemed to be done), "I 'ave no fuckin' clue."

You laughed at that, and if you were honest with yourself thought you saw something shoot through his eyes. Something warm. You ignored it.

"'S hurt?" he spoke, softer.

You responded, simply, "I've had worse."

Rick smiled a little at that, but fell into something more serious, "So, yeah?"

"Like a bitch," you admitted, and he let out a low sort of chuckle.

It made something in you relax, something warm lighting up in your chest. You let yourself feel it this time, just once.

"Just so ya know," he interrupted your thought process, "-'at ain't happenin' again."

You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows -warmth dissipating, "Are you- Are you chastising me right now?"

"No," he quickly responded, but didn't explain further, "-'M just tellin' ya I ain't lettin' it happen again."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rick paused a second, ripping another paper towel off and dabbing at your nose. It was probably still bleeding a little bit.

You just watched him, waiting for an explanation. Even though, you weren't entirely sure he was going to give you one.

"Anyone touches ya, says anythin' to ya, so much as looks at ya the wrong way-" he listed, tone deadly serious (it shook through your skull), "-ya come get me, and I’ll set 'em straight. Understand?"

Your mouth moved before you could stop it, "What?"

"I'll handle it," he repeated, pulling away the paper towel and locking eyes with yours, "-It ain't happenin' again."

"Rick," you laughed -incredulously, and maybe a little defensive, "-I don't need a fucking guard dog. I can handle myself."

"'Didn’t say 'at," he hummed, carefully, eyes skimming along your face -a little like he was in wonder (it made your head spin a second), "-'S for me, not ya."

"How does that-"

"If 'ey're fuckin' with ya, 'ey're fuckin' with me," he interrupted, eyes so solid that you couldn't really look away, "-you can handle it how ya want, but Imma 'ave some choice words of my own. So, send 'em my way too."

The words faltered in your throat, something swirling around your heart. He was just so-

The coppery taste again.

You shriveled up your nose in disgust, and Rick laughed at it (something gleaming in his eye), as you reacted -spitting the taste out into the dirt.

"Yeah, keep laughing, Grimes," you tsked, but there was no bite, not really. Not like there used to be, "-I'll beat the shit out of you."

"'Ere's no doubt in my mind," he retorted back, smiling in a way that crinkled at the eyes. You thought for a spare second it was a beautiful one, that maybe he was beautiful.

After that day, you'd say that everything was a little confusing.

These feelings towards Rick were far from new, very far. They'd always kind of been in the very back of your mind. Part of you was actually pretty sure that hating him had in some way distanced you from what you felt otherwise. Now, that is to say, you had definitely hated him at one point. That just didn't mean that it erased the... other thing.

You and Rick were off-kilter. Or at least you were. You guessed you couldn't say anything about him, he was very much a mystery to you at this point.

He just kept doing things. Like the scratch and nosebleed. And every time he'd smile at you a bit warmer, say something you couldn't really avoid. Not anymore. (And you weren't sure you wanted to avoid, honestly.)

And he'd looked at you a lot more, searched you out (when before you used to shun each other, avoid each other), and just smiled at you sometimes for no reason. The thing was you didn't mind it. You wanted him to. Because you... because it was all different.

You were confused, but you weren't going to be the one to encroach on it. It all felt so surreal, that one day something would happen and you'd just snap right back into place -just like before. To be fair, you still argued. But, it was moreso bickering now. And even if it wasn't, before you could get as heated as you used to, you compromised -easily.

You slotted together perfectly and bounced off each other with ease. Hell, he started coming to you about running Alexandria, about problems he couldn't quite get. And the two of you would talk until you worked out a solution. Because you always did.

It made no sense why you'd even clashed in the first place.

You were confused, beyond confused. And you wanted things, wanted to ask things, but they seemed dangerous. Far away-

That brought you here, on a night when you couldn't sleep. Which were more frequent nowadays, if you were completely honest. This whole situation made your mind run for a lot of different reasons, and when it wasn't that, it was nightmares. Alexandria was safe, you knew that, but it didn't necessarily stop your fight or flight -the urge to constantly be on edge, protect.

So, sometimes you sat here on the steps of your porch in the night -the chill and silence of it soothed you. It wouldn't always get you back to sleep, but it would make you feel better. Remind yourself that you're breathing. That you're alive.

You exhaled, trailing your finger along the wood of the railing beside you -absorbing the low buzz of bugs in the air and the strangely familiar groans of walkers outside the walls. It was kinda fucked up that it calmed you down, but you gave yourself a pass.

"Funny seein' ya 'ere."

Your eyes shot up and latched onto his.

The Grimes house was just a couple of houses down, diagonal to yours. So, you could see him, but not entirely clearly.

He was leaning on the porch railing, you could see the sleeves of his jacket against the starch white, and his hair seemed a little messy -your eyes trailed over a particular curl. It was hanging slightly down in front of his face. (You got the urge to fix it, comb it back into place.)

"'Could say the same to you, Grimes," you replied.

You saw him smile, dropping his head to look at the ground. It made something in your chest flutter. But, before you could say anything else, he was stepping down from his porch and making his way to you.

As he got closer you recognized that he was in pajamas with just a jacket thrown over.

He stood just at the bottom of the stairs, leaning onto the railing slightly and just looking at you. Like he always did these days. With worry and... something else.

"Nightmare?" he questioned, genuinely.

You rolled your lip around your teeth, deciding to say, "Kind of."

Rick's lips pressed into a frown, eyes glazing along your face (you didn't look back at him), "Can I sit?"

You were wordless, but moved slightly to the left (despite not really needing to) as unspoken acceptance. He stared at you for a second longer, before slowly but surely making his way to the steps. He sat closer to you than you thought he would've, but it was almost in character of him to do something that surprises you so.

"Ya cold?"

On cue, you shivered slightly, "I've had worse."

Rick let out a low sigh (he knew you well now), nudging off his jacket and hanging it squarely on your shoulders without hesitation. His eyes trailed over you wearing it for a moment, a small look in his eyes that you couldn't name. All shiny as his lips quirked up just a smidgen.

"You don't have to do that," you objected, but it was quiet and weak.

"I want to," he replied, simply.

You couldn't argue with that. Hell, you didn't think you could argue with him anymore-

Rick interrupted the thought, eyebrows furrowed in that kind of way you knew to be worried, "What do ya mean 'kinda'?"

You took a second, staring out into the night -listening to the silence.

"My mind won't stop," you clarified, "-sometimes it's... things I've done, and other times it's... things that I just can't seem to figure out."

"What's it today?"

You pursed your lips a minute, before answering, "Something I can't figure out."

He stared at you, blue eyes flickering along your face in a hazy sort of way. It made something unfurl in your chest that you'd tried to keep shoved down, "Is 'ere anythin' I can do to help?"

You ran the idea through your head a few times, and let your eyes match him a few more. You aren't entirely sure why, but talking to Rick fel a little like he'd never judge you. Even though he had before, it was... it was now. Things were very different.

"Can I ask you a question?" you spoke, then, deflecting a little.

"Shoot," he responded, almost instantly. ( A little like he'd do anything you'd ask.)

"What happened to us?"

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, and you took it as a motion to keep talking, to explain. So, you did.

"We used to-" you dropped your hands on your lap, and stared out into the Alexandrian streets, "-We used to scream at each other until our faces turned red. We couldn't stand each other, and now..."

"'At ain't a good thing?" he questioned, something in his tone a little disappointed (it made your head swirl a little), "-'At it changed, I mean."

"It is," you reassured, facing him a second, "-but I just... Isn't it confusing?"

Rick stayed silent a second, eyes smoothing along your face. Just looking, like maybe he thought you were beautiful (just like you did on that day), or maybe like he never wanted to forget what you looked like.

"No."

You pressed your lips together.

"Don't get me wrong," he clarified with a smile, "-I hated ya once, a long time ago. But 'is? Now? It makes sense."

You asked before you could think about it, "What is 'this'?"

He just stared at you a second, something flickering through his eyes, careful and considerate. Something warm. The warmth you kept seeing now, the one you tried to avoid.

"You," he answered, vaguely, "-Us."

"What does that mean?" you asked, your confusion was ever-so-clear. This was all things you didn't understand.

He didn't say anything, as you stared out into the streets -watching some of the porch lights flicker. The night sky was still dark, so you weren't really worried about the hour.

And then, you felt calloused fingers on your chin -guiding you back to his eyes. The thoughts cleared out of your head.

"Y/N, you drive me fuckin' crazy," he laughed a little, and you felt your eyebrows furrow, "-not just in a frustratin' sorta way. You... I worry about ya like crazy, I think of ya like crazy... I care 'bout ya like crazy-"

Your heart skipped a beat.

"-an' I... I love ya like crazy."

Your lips felt stitched shut, as he just smiled at you -something in his eyes that you could see now. You could identify.

"Ya poke and prod at me until I'm reelin', yeah, but-" he pressed his lips together, eyes shimmering across your face, "-I wouldn't 'ave it any other fuckin' way. An' I mean 'at. I just... I'm not me without ya annoyin' the shit out of me. Without ya callin' me out on my shit."

You laughed, something burning the backs of your eyes, "I am the only one who would do that, huh?"

"Ya are," he grinned at you, and you felt something in your chest squeeze tight.

It felt clear then, abundantly clear.

"I love you too, Grimes."

He grinned, the big kind that crinkled at the eyes, "Thought so."

You rolled your eyes, with no bite, "Oh shut up, sheriff. I could still kick your ass, and you would deserve it."

He laughed, the genuine kind -hand coming to cradle your cheek, "Still, don't doubt it, sweetheart."

You smiled, and noticed just how close the two of you were. He only seemed to be roaming closer, and it made your heartbeat pick up in your chest a little. Before you could stop it, your eyes dipped down to his lips.

He grinned again, the kind that rattle down to your core, all handsome and shiny white teeth. And then, he started moving closer, his own eyes dipping to your lips.

"Ya kno', I can think of a way to get me to shut up."

"Can you?" you teased, quiet between the two of you.

He just hummed, distracted. It made something in your stomach stir.

"I am pretty desperate for you to," you remarked -playfully.

Rick busted into laughter, a loud kind that you barely ever heard from him. It made something in your chest shimmer, proud. You kind of wanted to hear that forever. And now, maybe you could.

The thought made you grin, as you leaned forward, impatiently, and connected your lips to his. It was just a press of lips, but you did feel him lean into it. Before you could get far, he laughed even more, breaking off the kiss, and it made you laugh.

"'Course ya can't wait for one second," he chuckled -playfully, "-You've always been so damn impatient."

"Oh, fuck you, Grimes," you laughed into the night, "-You're lucky I don't-"

And this time, he shut you up.

[snail-migraine]

hello !! please delete / ignore if this validates your rules !! ^ __ ^

Platonic Yandere Malleus & child [name] . .

and [name] may or may not be a brat . . and probably failing school ( it’s college so no wonder !!)

preferably he / him prns but you can do whatever :] thank you !! there’s just not enough platonic yanderes in twstfandom . .

Of course! I'd be more than happy to this. The platonic yandere is a trope thats very unexplored, so I'd love to do one! Thanks for the Ask!

-

Anon-Yan💌.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

So since there were no specifics on who reader might be [Just that reader is Malleus's Child] let's just say that reader is Malleus's adopted child, but is still Fae. Just not a draconic fae.

Malleus as Yandere father is super-overprotective. The phrase "Helicopter Parent" Doesn't even begin to describe this man.

Maybe it was due all of the neglect he suffered through as a child, but this man absolutely refuse to give you any sort of privacy or space. Even as a teenager.

He just hates the idea of you feeling lonely so he spends practically every second he can with you, even at you're own expense.

Malleus is also petrified of losing you, Lillia is closing in on his own death, Silver never had very long compared to Malleus, and Sebek is half human, meaning he will never live as long as Malleus.

You're the only other family he has aside from his grandmother, he's not letting you go easily.

Malleus is one of those people who can't help but spoil their children, he'd hate to start yelling at his precious baby.

Maybe all that spoiling is how you got the way you are. Entitled and bratty.

When you first started going to school Malleus would get complaints from teachers on just how terrible you would be to the other kids.

But he refused to believe his precious baby was so awful. Especially when you started [fake] crying, saying that the teachers and other students here were mean to you.

"How dare you accuse my child of such terrible acts! My child would never do such a thing. They are nothing but a sweetheart. If I ever hear such a blatant lie fall from your lips ever again, the consequences will result in your immediate execution. Understand?"

Those poor teachers man.

Malleus babies you so much it isn't until Lillia, Silver, Sebek, and his grandmother hold an intervention that he'll start being a little hard on you.

But even then, if you start crying he'll back down.

It's ironic that somebody so strong breaks so easily at the slightest little swell of your tear-ducts.

Life goes on like this for a long time, with you causing trouble and Malleus brushing it off like it's nothing.

It isn't until you're a teenager and enrolled in Night Raven College that you finally cross the line.

"Mr. Draconia, I don't what it is but your child seems hellbent on becoming one of the worst students this school has ever seen!", Crowley exclaims, "Just last week they destroyed on of Diasomnia's numerous gargoyles! Even with my genius expertise, I can't keep them under control."

You keep your arms crossed and blow a peice of hair out of your face. 'That crow is still yapping.' You think to yourself, annoyed about having to listen to some lousy headmaster blab on and on about how you were sooooo terrible. As if the guy really thought that the Malleus Draconia would ever listen to his bullshit.

Dad always took your side, any second now that crow would finally shut his mouth and your dad would finally get you out of this dump.

Crowley jumps in his seat when a strike of thunder hits outside. 'There it is.' Dad always hated it when people accused you. The frown on your face lightens to a devious smirk.

"Ehem.", Crowley tries to regain his composure, "I believe if they're behavior doesn't change I'll have to expel them."

Thats when Malleus finally snaps, but he doesn't make it clear to you, or Crowley. But God is he pissed. He's spent all this time babying and treating you like the little royal he knows you should be, but look at you! Nothing but a troublemaker with no respect for anyone or anything around you. Has he really failed as father this badly?

You know what? It doesn't matter anymore, cause guess what? He's no longer going to baby you, you're almost an adult for sevens sake! And you've got the intelligence of two year old.

"That's fine, Headmaster Crowley." He says, trying to keep his demeanor calm despite the now raging storm outside. "I think it's best that from now on I start home-schooling them anyways."

His curls his fists into his lap.

"Thank you for your time, we'll be getting Their things now and removing them from campus. Have a good day Crowley." And with that he grabs you by the wrist and yanks you out of the room.

He didn't even let you grab your things, he just pulled you to the mirror and sent both of you back to Briar Valley. Once there, he continues pulling you around by your arm until he gets to one of old dungeon cells put high up in a tower. There he finally lets you go by throwing you in. When you try to ask why he's doing this he shushes you with his glare. Pointed and sharp.

He may be father, but he's not going to play nice.

He takes a deep breathe, a crackle of green thunder booms from outside the old brick walls of the castle, before he speaks up.

"You disappoint me. I have given you nothing but love and generosity in the hopes that you would turn out as a kind, loving, and respectful person."

You're at a loss for words as you try to say something, anything, but he glares at you once more and shushes you.

"You are a member of the Draconia Family. There are rules and guidelines we must follow, we can not go around acting like brats and destroying anything we like. And until you adhere to those simple rules, you will no longer be treated as a royal.", His tone was sharper than the deadliest knife. And his words made you more scared of your father than you'd ever been before.

"Your time will be spent either studying or cleaning. In your down time you will be making your food and no servant will be tending to you. Do you understand?" You could only nod dumbly as actual tears welled in your eyes. The sight made him grimace.

"..I love you my dear, but you are a Draconia. And you need to start acting like it." He said, almost as though he was trying to comfort you. Before turning on his heel and walking down the winding steps out of the tower.

[biblio-smia]

every artist needs a muse

pairing: (tasm!) peter parker x gender neutral reader

part two of excuse me, could i get a picture?

masterlist | requests are open!

buy me a ko-fi!

Brown leaves scatter over stone and ground. Barren trees stand tall above where they've shed their adornments, but even they seem sad and droopy.

Peter sighs, lowers his camera. It's ironic how inspired fall makes him feel while the season that follows kills it immediately.

The least Peter can do is look for new faces to photograph. Then maybe today wouldn't have been a total waste.

With a few ounces of newfound encouragement, Peter lifts the camera to eye level again. He zooms in, letting the lens focus on one person at a time. Peter moves from figure to figure, none quite catching his eye. He blames the early hour, blames himself more; his desire to get a head start on the day has backfired tremendously.

Peter is about to lower his camera again when he catches something. His phone dings at that moment but the vaguely familiar side profile he's spotted has caught and reeled his attention; the person he's staring at through his camera eerily resembles the person he's spent a little too much time clicking through photos of.

Peter is sure it's you when your head rises from your phone. He stands immediately, camera dropping, the tug on his neck telling him he was smart enough to remember to hang it on himself first. He's tempted to yell your name when he realizes just how far he'd been looking at you from. Another idea strikes him - he reaches for his phone; sure enough, that notification had been from you.

"ppparker: turn around!!!!"

He's interrupting the conversation you two had been in the middle of, but Peter can apologize in a second. He watches from afar as you take your phone out and stop, turning around from where you stand.

Peter waves furiously, light string of laughter spilling from his lips. You're too far to hear, but you can see his grin and he can see you light up with a smile.

The two of you begin walking to each other, meeting each other in the middle with giddy grins. Your arms are crossed over your coat, your head tilting curiously.

"Are you following me, Peter Parker?"

Peter's heart thumps hearing you say his entire name. He knows it wasn't hard to figure out, considering it was half of his username, but he suspects it's something about you in this equation that's flustering him.

"You know what, I was just about to ask you that," Peter grins.

"You were going to ask me if Peter Parker is following you?" It's a terrible joke, but Peter laughs anyway. Your gaze trails down Peter's figure, land on the camera that once again hangs around his neck. "Get anything good?"

Peter follows your eyes, picking his camera up. In his rush, he'd forgotten to turn it off, didn't even cover the lens. "Nah, not really," he admits, watching as the small screen goes black.

"I don't believe that," you grin.

"Ah, I barely took anything," Peter says, getting his head out of the camera strap. "Nothing really caught my eye until I saw you."

You're not sure how Peter means it; he says it too smoothly, but so genuinely you can't help but take it as a compliment.

Peter's face warms as his words replay in his head as he stores his camera in the bag he'd brought along with him, embarrassment growing with your silence. But when he looks at you again, you're smiling, sending a new wave of confidence through him.

"I, uh, I'm not in a rush today," Peter begins, messing with the strap of his bag nervously. "Are you? Cause we could maybe get coffee? Or something?" Peter's eyes are wide with hope, heart hammering in his chest.

The pace of your heart quickens, a smile spreading slowly as he asks. Your body grows warm, your coat suddenly feeling too hot as you nod. "Sure."

Peter's shoulder relax as he nods. "Cool. Do you mind if we go uptown?"

You shake your head no, wondering where Peter will take you. "Whisk me away," you grin and Peter does. He sticks his arm out for you to grab and the two of you are off. The wind whips violently around you but you feel particularly warm against Peter's side.

Eight blocks go by quickly when you and Peter talk, conversations light and friendly as they were when you first met with, now with the occasional flirtatious comment, instagram chats equipping the both of you with the confidence to throw them in.

"Right here." Peter motions as the two of you approach a small cafe. He's polite, holding the door open for you to walk in first. The cafe is small and quite full; Peter puts a gentle hand on your back, keeping you in front of him as you wait in line. You admire the pastries in the display case, fawn over the menu. Peter looks at you with a smile as you hum over what to order, asking his opinion and his personal favorites.

Peter refuses to let you pay, something about making it up to you for leaving you in a rush last time.

The two of you find a table in the corner, not secluded but out of the way, just enough for the two of you to converse comfortably.

Well, rather than trying to have a conversation, you're much more occupied with trying to admire Peter in the sunlight that creeps in through the shop windows.

It's much more difficult than it sounds - you've currently settled for piecing together glances here and there or else you'd be caught staring.

But would that really be such a terrible thing?

It'd be payback for how long Peter had spent staring at you while taking photos, how warm the session had made you felt. You recall how you'd walked a little straighter afterwards, a little smile etched on your face that didn't want to disappear.

It was only fair for Peter to get that same treatment.

Peter falters a little when you pull out your phone (was he really being that boring?), his open-mouthed expression transforming into one of pure confusion when Peter is pretty sure you're taking photos of him. Unless you're just holding your phone at a really weird angle.

"Ha, ha," Peter laughs once it dawns on him. "Photographing the photographer. I get it. That's funny." He's smiling, but it's nervous. You're no photographer, but you can't help but think that this is what you resembled in the shots that had earned a strained smile from Peter.

"You're a terrible model."

Peter laughs, genuinely, and you're able to capture a few good ones, a small grin spreading on your face as you look at the photos captured, quickly, before they disappear.

"Let me see?" Peter cranes his head towards you curiously but you turn your phone over quickly.

"No way am I showing my rookie photos to a professional." You're smiling but only half-joking, not making any moves to flip your phone screen into Peter's line of sight.

Peter rolls his eyes light-heartedly. "Automatic disqualification."

You gasp. "No!"

"Yes," Peter grins with a shrug. "It's only fair."

You laugh lightly. Your cheeks are starting to hurt, but you know you won't feel the pain until you're alone.

"So," you grin as your orders are placed on the table in front of you, grateful for the distraction. "No one photographs the photographer?"

Peter mirrors your smile. "Nah," he shakes his head, glancing at you as he begins to dig in. "I prefer to be behind the camera."

"Well, I assumed that much," you laugh.

Peter chuckles, eyes squeezing shut in a way that makes your heart thump. "I mean, I don't hate it or anything, I just don't really feel a need to." Peter shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well, that's just a crime against humanity."

Peter makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh.

"I'm serious!" You protest once you've finished chewing your food. "People already go crazy for you on your tiktok."

You say it so casually Peter's heart stops. Of course, he knows you've seen his tiktok. You started your message with that. Though something about your sudden attention to his social media presence makes him do mental cartwheels trying to remember if he's anything posted anything super embarrassing you could've seen.

"I really liked your caption, by the way," you say between sips of your drink. "What was it again? 'Me flirting for five minutes?'"

Peter groans as you laugh, hiding his face in his palms. His cheeks are warm with embarrassment and he's sure it's visible on the tips of his ears. "Okay, that was-"

"Very honest. I appreciate it." You give Peter an approving nod, mischievous smile stuck on your lips.

"I didn't think you'd see it," Peter admits, pulling his face out of his hands and unknowingly sending a surge of pride to your chest at his embarrassment.

"I'm glad I did," you admit honestly. "I mean, I really thought the entire thing had been in my head."

Peter snorts at that. "I promise I'm not that nice to every stranger I meet on the street."

"As expected from a New Yorker."

Peter's amusement is clear on his face, eyes bright and crinkling at the corners. He's only had the pleasure of sharing a few conversations with you, but each is better than the last. More of your personality shines through each one and Peter feels like he's on the edge of his seat, ready for whatever you let him find out next.

"You know I wouldn't have hunted you down so hard if I didn't like you, right, Peter?"

The sound of his name from your lips never fails to make him feel like those cartoon characters with hearts in their eyes and Peter is determined to do whatever it takes to create as many situations where you say it as he can.

Peter might've been able to come up with something incredibly smooth if he hadn't been so star-struck (though, let's face it, anything Peter would've come up with would have been incredibly lame), but the visible shock on his face was enough to save him this time around.

For such a smart guy, so many things just flew over his head.

"Well-" Peter stutters out, but you interrupt before he can make a complete fool out of himself.

"Is this a date, Peter?"

Now that makes Peter scoff.

"No way!" Your heart sinks as Peter laughs, trying not to let your face drop completely. "That would be cheating. If I were to ask you out, I'd ask you to go on a proper date, in advance." Peter laughs, as if you'd been silly to assume he'd be anything less than proper with you.

"So, are you going to ask me out?"

Peter stammers, lips gaping as he searches for an answer.

"You don't have to, I just wanted-"

"No!" Peter interrupts, hands waving desperately. "No, I do want to ask you out. Like, really want to," Peter assures.

"Oh-kay," your eyebrows raise unconsciously, voice dragging on expectantly. But Peter's phone dings in a vaguely recognizable way and he stiffens.

Peter stands suddenly, bumping the table and empty plates with his leg. "Where are you going now?"

You're taken aback slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I don't know, probably home-"

"Let me walk you to the station?"

You glance at Peter curiously but his arm is outstretched and his question is genuine. Although you've long since established that he likes you, there's still a few ounces of doubt inside of you - but you push them down in favor of Peter's hand, taking it and letting him lead you outside.

The way his phone dings continuously and the way he stood tell you he has to go but the way he walks with you suggests he doesn't want to. There's a nervous glint in Peter's eyes as he looks around once the two of you have arrived to a flight of stairs leading below ground. He holds your hands in his, lightly, so that you can slip out if you'd like to.

Though, you don't want to leave either.

"Are you busy Friday night?" Peter asks shyly, unable to look straight into your eyes.

"Depends," you grin teasingly.

"Could I convince you with some food that will completely change your life?"

"That's a very big promise."

"It's a guarantee," Peter maintains.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. "6 p.m.?"

"Whatever works for you," Peter nods quickly. "I'll pick you up?"

"I'll send you my address," you agree.

"Okay. Cool. Great." Peter laughs nervously and, before he can regret it, presses a quick kiss to the back of your hand just before he takes off.

You hang onto the railing for support as you all but stumble down the steps, a little dizzy from Peter's lips. Once you recompose yourself you turn towards the light of the sky shining above the street - but Peter is long gone, leaving you with a giddy anticipation for the feeling of his lips on yours.

tagging everyone who was interested in a pt 2!!

@lanadevotee @miwagila @strangereads @ghostlyfleur @theorgansarerotting

please let me know if anyone would like to be tagged for future parts!!

i'd also like to say thank you so so much for all the kind comments/reblogs on excuse me, could i get a picture? gajkngjksn reading through all of them makes me dizzy seriously you guys are so sweet!!

[24kmar]

𝙄𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖.

Pairing: Toxic!Fem x Situationship Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt finds himself repeating the vicious cycle of letting the girl he loved the most come back into his life and ruin him, but what happens when he realizes he can't stop.

Warnings: Toxic situationship!! ANGSTTT, suggestive content, language, implied sex, MDNI, reader breaking matts heart 😭

English is not my first language!! So please be nice 💕

Matt didn't know how he kept getting here. He didnt know why he kept letting this terrible cycle continue. He truly hated himself, hated himself for letting her come back into his life. Giving him a sliver of hope that she would finally let him love her. Until she ruined him and left him to put himself back together.

To be honest, he did know how he got here, how she got here. How she got in his house, in his room, and in his bed. It was really a shame, a shame that all that pure bliss that had happend moments prior had to be ruined so soon after. It pained him to see her get out of the bed and begin to get dressed like they werent just fucking ten minutes ago.

"Where are you going?" Matt sat up as his eyebrows furrowed. "Home," she replied dryly. "I got shit to do" she explained as she finished getting dressed now moving to fix her hair in his mirror. The hair that he messed up, during one of the best moments in his life.

Matt would be lying if he said half of the best moments in his life werent the ones spent with her. Even if that moment was just a mili-second, it was still pure ecstacy just cause it was with her.

"You cant stay, even just for a little while?" he asked, almost pleaded while getting out of his bed. His question was met with pure silence, the only thing heard was his footsteps towards her. He stood behind and wrapped his arms around her as she didnt even look him in the eye.

"Hey....look at me" he whispered in her ear, reluctantly she did. Its funny really, how just a moment ago she looked at him with eyes full of lust and desire. And now when she looked at him, there was...nothing.

"Stay, just for a little," he paused looking at her face searching for emotion "for me." he pleaded with her. "I cant matt." she sighed rubbing her temples. "Why?" He he whispered while having a pained look on his face. "You know why i cant matt." She hissed.

"No i dont, i dont know why you cant." he said letting go of her waist stepping back, and crossing his arms. "Im not doing this with you right now" she scoffed moving to get her phone. "Yes, yes you are." he moved to grab her wrist. "Let fucking go of me" she shouted shoving him, making him stumble back slightly. He was stunned to say the least, how could she do this to him?

He loved her, more than he'd like to admit. So for her to tell him to get off her. It felt like a knife to his fucking chest. "Please," he begged as he watched her grab he bag and move towards the door "dont be like this."

Thank god chris and nick werent here to hear this. To hear him sounding like a shot down puppy dog. "What about us" he yelled following behind her down the stairs. "What about us," she chuckled dryly "there is no fucking us matt." And thats when something in him just broke, something that could never be fixed.

"If theres no us then what was the point of all this, huh?" he asked grabbing her wrist and turning her around to face him. "You're fucking kidding me matt," she shouted in his face, startling him "there was supposed to be a point in this?" She chuckled sarcastically. "Thank you so fucking much for informing me matt, i didnt know there was a point to us fucking." she hissed at him.

"This isnt just fucking and you know it" matt shook his head as tears filled his waterline. "Yes it is matt, this," she motions between them "is just sex, obviously you dont know that." she said waiting for a response. There was none.

There was absolutely nothing he could say to this. He just stood motionlessly. And to that, she turned around and walked right out that door.

He didn't really know what to say or do. And the worst part of it all was the fact that no matter what she did, he loved her unconditionally and irrevocably. This is when he realized, that no matter what happend or what she said. He would always let her back in.

And the cycle would continue.

SHIT THAT WAS HARD 😭😭😭 This blows dick but we can always improve 💀 i hope yall liked this. @teapartyprincess4two thank you for being my #1 supporter.

[chaifootsteps]

random reply roundup on Reddit - some precious sanity (even the more pro Stolas camp are coming down hard on how he behaved this episode)

Unpopular opinion, but I think Stolas was in the wrong with the way he handled things. I understand that he was trying to remove the transactional part of their relationship. But he continuously treated Blitzo like a lowly imp and didn’t listen to EVERYTHING Blitzo was saying throughout that interaction. He started off with taking the book back, which just confirmed Blitzo’s idea of himself that he isn’t good enough (which is shown after he gives him the crystal.) Their relationship from the beginning has been transactional and it has been that way BECAUSE of Stolas. So who can blame Blitzo for not taking him seriously when Stolas starts talking about feelings out of nowhere? Then when Blitzo realizes that Stolas is being genuine, he wants to talk about it. Sure he gets angry and starts yelling, but it’s understandable for how hypocritical Stolas is being. Then instead of talking about it, Stolas just kicks him out because instead of listening to EVERYTHING Blitzo was saying, he just heard what he wanted to.

------------

Stolas fucked up. Yeah, obviously Blitzo [did too], but Stolas had terrible timing, made Blitzo think he was about to lose his livelihood, didn't even wait for Blitzo to process that it's not about sex on the day they have sex, walked away all pseudo offended, and didn't give him a second for him to apologize. Man, come on. Really? I hope he apologizes too. I love him, but he gets really all up in his emotions and ideals. He had a clear plan, and a clear worst case scenario (one where Blitzo doesn't care and just leaves), so when Blitzo reacted differently than expected, the only thing he could do is walk away? That's not helpful! Yeah, even if he wasn't in love with you (which he is) he's very clearly showing that he doesn't just want you to just leave with no explanation or discussion? As the person who set this up, you have an obligation to explain it with him. Rather than explain. Blitzo's insults were personal, and not even all that true [ed: hard disagree, but the rest is on point], and his screaming did NOT help, but I can't help but not blame him as much as I blame Stolas. It's a pretty 65/35 split of my "blame".

------------

and I can't stand [Stolas] anymore. The giving up of the crystal isn't anything but self fulfillment, and once Blitzo had a genuine reaction that Stolas didn't want to hear, he was kicked out. Stolas and Blitzo are not right for eachother

--------------

This episode makes me hate Stolas, send tweet. No I will not explain

The sun's starting to peek through the clouds!

[ponyosmom35]

comfort

Simon Riley x reader

Liability series chapter twenty eight

Synopsis: reader gets into a massive fight about politics with her father, leaving her upset as she and Simon go up to her room to calm her down. 

Warnings: fighting, angst, cursing, fluff, Simon is a sweetheart. 

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

she rushes up to her room with Simon hot on her trail. His heavy footsteps following hers as shes stomp to her childhood room. She slams the door open ignoring the loud yells from her father from downstairs. She paces back and forth as Simon gently closes the door.

“no he’s such a fucking idiot! I literally don’t understand how the fuck he can act this way?! Like he doesn’t fucking listen, he just waits for me to be done talking so he can push his idiotic views on me fuck it’s so goddamn stupid I hate being here!” she rants loudly

“baby” Simon says gently

She whip around to face him, her red and angry face finds him sitting on her bed scratching the back of his head. “am I wrong? I mean you can’t just pick and choose when you support trans rights, you can’t sit here and say that you don’t care what people do as long as their happy and then turn around and make all of those horrible points! what the fuck that is fucking insane and it makes me sick that he thinks that way! It doesn’t even make any fucking sense” she exclaims

“love-”

“Simon he just keep interrupting me without letting me get a single point out, like that isn’t how you have a fucking conversation let me speak, why don’t you respect me enough to hear what I have to say?”

“y/n-”

“I listen to him and once I start to speak about something that he doesn’t agree with- that's when he stops listening. Give me basic respect goddamn he has no idea how to talk to somebody then the fucking gaslighting starts, ‘oh I'm sorry I’m a terrible father who you can't stand I love you more than you'll ever know’ shut the fuck up with that I’m not gonna feel sorry for you and apologize this is a matter of human fucking rights-”

“baby stop, take a deep breath” Simon interrupts. She glares at him as she attempts to keep her anger at her father rather than shifting it to him. “do you agree with him or something?” she asks, crossing her arms. 

Simon stands and places his hands on her shoulders, staring down at her lovingly. He knew that it took quite a lot to work her up to the point where she would actually fight. Once she reached that level she was not gonna back down. Though he didn’t like seeing her fight with her father, he coudln’t help but admire the way she stuck up for what she believed in. He smiles “no I’m so proud of you and how you fought for what's right. you are 100% correct with everything you said”

“its so fucking infuriating” She says as her lips begins to tremble. Her eyes gloss over and she tries to blink away the tears but they fall quickly. He pulls her into a hug instantly, rubbing her back comfortingly. “I know lovie”

“I’m not even upset it’s just…” She trials off “I get it” he responds

Simon pulls back slightly, pushing her hair behind her ears and wiping the tears. She sniffles and he lets her go, allowing her to take off her glasses and clean them off from the fresh tears. She stares at the wall as the voices of her parents arguing through the walls pierces her ears. Simon wraps himself around her, pulling ger into him as he holds his head on her shoulder. She holds onto his forearm as he begins rocking them back and forth. He starts kissing her neck, knowing how ticklish she was there. 

She bursts out laughing at the song and allow him to turn her body, so they were facing each other. He pulls her into him, lifting her up in the air over his shoulder. She gasps as the air is taken from her lungs and wheezes loudly. “put me down” she laughs

“sorry love, I can’t control myself” he says in his thick british accent. She cackles as he spins us around three times. His hand slaps her ass as he allows her to slide down to his chest. He holds her body close and falls limp, smiling up at him. He clutches her tighter and she gasps as it begins to hurt. She wraps her arms around his neck and pull myself around him. Allowing him to hold her like a child.

“I love you so much” she said.

“I love you too darling”

a/n

this is based on a real fight I got into with my dad, I wish I had a Simon to calm me down ugh

[theflyindutchwoman]

Well, I mean, there is such a thing as over-correcting. Hey, guys. Bring it in. Huddle up. What are you doing? You know, kids need to have fun, but they also need a little bit of structure. Hey, hustle up. Okay. Uh, my name is Lucy. I am Coach Bradford's friend, and we're gonna start with the basics -- throwing the ball.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.11 - The Naked and the Dead

One of the things I find the most compelling about Tim and Lucy is how they show up for each other. This has been the foundation of their partnership from the very beginning… and, now, of their relationship.

The dichotomy of the kids being absolutely terrible and Tim congratulating them is priceless. But aside from the humor, this scene illustrates how their respective background fuels their approach to coaching. Tim can relate to the kids, having his own - literal - scars from his father's coaching. They are here to have fun and, after being berated and yelled at by their former coach, he understands that what they need is encouragement and support, not be scarred any further. He's trying really hard to be as uplifting as possible, overcompensating in the process. His fear of being anything like his dad is still there under the surface. But this is also a good reminder of what a great TO he was : he adjusted his teaching's methods to what his rookies needed, as demonstrated with Katie. And this is exactly what he does here. Though, as Lucy notes, there is such a thing as overcorrecting too much : being encouraging is great, but the kids need some structure as well. And this is a direct callback to her background in psychology. She's able to pinpoint immediately that something is bothering him and, once she understands the issue at hand, she doesn't even hesitate before helping Tim by taking charge and adopting the more demanding role. They both play to their strengths here and find a way to balance each other effortlessly. It's such a role reversal to their former dynamic but it further illustrates how well they complement each other. And how supportive they are of each other.

Lucy showing up to see Tim is her way of being encouraging, of taking interests in the things he does. She knows exactly how it feels not to have that unconditional support. Just like Tim with his dad, she is committed to break the cycle her parents upheld. And the way he stops dead in his tracks when he sees her at his sister's side, instantly smiling, really highlights how pleased he is that she's here. He was out of his comfort zone - coaching the kids wasn't even his idea originally - but she showed up and that means a lot to him. Having her arrival in the background while he was busy giving instructions was brilliant. But the best reaction is when she takes the lead. His smile when she introduces himself as his friend is too much - like sir, there are children right in front of you! He looks so proud of her. And touched. He gets to show her his support as well, by letting her shine and ensuring that the kids are listening to her instructions. His heart eyes are in full display once she talks baseball. Having a partner that not only doesn't mind his love for sports, but shares it and wants to be a part of it… Well, he never stood a chance, did he?! Something that is quite obvious with how he can't help himself from checking her out - in front of his sister… Their lack of subtlety for two people trying to hide their relationship is downright hilarious. The way he also has to tease her at the end with the ball is so inherently them… their dynamic is still the same : they're just dating on top of it. And this is everything.

[edenityy]

( chapter twenty ! )

"You are awfully quiet this morning."

Rain pours down on a cloudy morning once again, forming droplets on the window and casting a gloomy feeling over Phantomhive Manor. The death of Georg Von Siemens still hangs heavy on everyone's shoulders. But for Leah, she hardly feels affected and remains firm with her idea of his death. 'Perverts deserve what's coming to them.'

She sits before a intricately carved vanity, littered with different items for her essential morning routine. Behind her, Anna delicately runs a brush through Leah's hair as she forms a waterfall braid. The brown locks try to sit in their natural subtle waves, but the lady's maid seems steadfast in straightening the hair.

Leah shakes her head with a small frown on her lips. "There is nothing to say."

The brush gently snags on small knots in Leah's hair, pulling her head closer to Anna with every run-through. What is typically comfortable silence feels strained. Neither are sure what they are meant to say.

"I thought you would want to speak about last night," Anna's voice is low when she notices the frown. Upsetting her master before noon is always a terrible idea.

Leah's face hardens. "I am choosing to believe that was all a dream," her voice is laced with denial.

Hand movements stuttering, Anna tightens her grip on the brush. "You can't just ignore all of the problems in your life, Mistress. That is how you cause—"

"Enough!" Leah's voice rings out through their ears, threatening to spill into the halls.

Anna's eyes can't help but soften, despite her urge to be quiet. "Mistress—"

"Anna, I said enough!" yells Leah, her chest heaving under the corset she wears.

Both women are overcome by a stunned silence. Leah appears agitated while Anna is frozen in place, neither bold enough to make the next move. The sound of the teenager's voice rings throughout their ears. It was loud, coming from her chest to get her point across.

Just before Leah can part her lips to begin scolding the maid, a sharp scream sounds through the manor. Unlike most who would be startled or frightened by the sudden sound, the Barrett groans and kicks her feet in the manner of a child. 'Not again..'

Forcefully rising from her seat, Leah stomps away from the vanity and towards the door, the wind of her movements blowing the sheer curtains covering the windows. Her huffs echo in her head the closer she gets to the room, hearing the faint noises of sniffling and crying.

If only she prepared herself for the sight rather than throwing an internal fit, for the view of Sebastian lying dead on the floor now plagues her mind. His blood splatters the floor and himself, even trickling down his mouth due to the poker sticking out of his chest that allows blood to pool on his uniform. But the worst sight is his lifeless eyes. Wide pupils staring off at the wall that send a shiver down Leah's spine.

'I guess I was wrong? Demons cannot die, can they?'

Leah's eyes drift over to the Phantomhive servants — primarily Meyrin and Finnian — who have tears staining their cheeks, clearly mourning the loss of a close peer. For the first time in a while, she feels a sense of remorse. However, it is quickly overcome by the discomfort of the room atmosphere. Two murders? This is much too strange, even for her.

No one in the room seems to notice as time passes them by until the sound of Ciel and Arthur's feet slapping against the floor can be heard, pulling them from their stupor.

"Wh—What do we tell.. the young master..?" asks Meyrin in between sobs, her face buried in her hands.

Beside her, Finnian hangs his head low. Tears flow down his red cheeks and a bead of snot drops from his nose, shoulders shaking. However, Bardroy doesn't allow a tear to drop from his eyes. Pride? Perhaps. But he immediately focuses in on Ciel appearing in the doorway.

"Young.. Master," he says.

Puffs of air leave Ciel's mouth, his eyes wide and devoid of emotion when he comes face to face with Sebastian's body that lays on the floor. His typical black eyepatch is replaced with a medical one, hiding his other eye. However, many could guess his other would appear just as distraught if it was uncovered.

His eyes lock onto Sebastian's dead ones. "Seba.. s.. tian?" Ciel asks, his voice breaking.

When he goes to take a step closer, Meyrin stops him by grabbing him from behind, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso.

"Y.. You can't!" she yells. "Young Master, you shouldn't go closer!"

The sound of Ciel's protests fills the room, even as Finnian approaches to join with Meyrin to keep the boy from approaching the body. This doesn't blow over well though, as their master pushes them back with a slap and a scolding. Even the guests show a hint of surprise, but the high tension is to blame for their emotions coming first.

Stepping over, Ciel stands directly beside Sebastian's body. "Sebastian.. stop fooling around. Sleeping on the floor doesn't look all that comfortable to me," his voice lacks emotion this time around.

Leah leans her head over to whisper to Anna. "Does he not see that he is dead..?" she raises a brow, beginning to think that Ciel is purely insane or simple.

"Exactly how long are you planning on pretending to be asleep?" asks Ciel, his eyes staring down harshly at the body. He even ignores Bardoy's calls to stomp a foot onto the chest of his butler. "Didn't you hear me, Sebastian? I said get up."

Sending an unsure glance to her maid, Leah is met with a small slap on the arm in response. Now is not the time for Leah's typical antics, even if Ciel isn't reacting rationally. This doesn't stop her from looking around as though she is missing something. 'Saying get up as if his chest is not impaled is insane.. Am I marrying an insane man? That makes us even I suppose.'

Ciel grinds his teeth when he receives no response. "Why you.." taking his right hand, he pulls the poker out of Sebastian's chest and tosses it to the side.

"Earl!" screams Arthur.

"Sebastian! Wake up this instant! That's an order!" Ciel roars, tightly grasping the butler's coat as he collapses onto his chest. But once again, there is no response. "Didn't you hear my order?!" he shouts and strikes the side of Sebastian's face.

All of the guests collectively give wary looks. Realistically, Ciel is being over the top with his acting but no one dares to say that out loud. Some don't take kindly to the repeated slaps that happen before them though.

Shifting closer toward her lady's maid, Leah brings her face in close. "Anna.. perhaps we should pack my bags..?" she whispers, noting how she wants to go home.

Sadly for the spoiled girl, she is shut down once again when she is shushed. But this time around, Leah pouts heavily and crosses her arms. She is far too accustomed to getting what she wants and lacks empathy for those around her, shown in her missing display of emotions for both deaths to occur within one night.

So caught up with her mini fit, she doesn't even notice anything is happening until she hears the cries of Ciel being pulled away from Sebastian so his body can be moved. 'I didn't think he could show this type of emotion..' she thinks to herself. She hardly sees anything other than a straight face from her fiancé, so seeing the tears leaves a slight pang in her heart.

"Go comfort him!" Anna speaks up with a loud whisper, ushering Leah in Ciel's direction.

Against these urges, Leah shakes her head quickly. "I am bad at comforting people, you know that!" she objects.

As much as she cares for Ciel deep down, comforting people has never been a thing for Leah. She can hardly handle her own emotions. To try and deal with another person is like torture. What are you even meant to say if someone cries? The most she can give is empty consoling words and pats on the back.

Despite the Barrett not wanting to, Anna doesn't back down and forcefully sends Leah right in the direction of her fiancé. Though she knows to prepare for a slap that is to come later in the day for this.

Leah stops before Ciel and is quick to plaster an out-of-character smile on her face, showing off her pearly teeth. "Perhaps you can put on some trousers and we can talk about this?" she stammers, the smile not reaching her eyes as she avoids looking at the boy in his nightshirt.

Ciel's brow raises uncertainly. "Why do you look like that..?"

"Look like what?" Leah is quick with her words, the corners of her mouth twitching from a pain in her cheek.

"Your face," he speaks slowly.

Shaking her head, Leah glances towards Finnian with wide eyes. "What is wrong with my face? Finny, is there something wrong with my face?"

"N—No, My Lady!" the gardener stumbles over his words, dry tears still staining his red cheeks.

She gestures over to Finnian as a 'see?' to validate her point, regardless that she knows she is acting strange. Leah has never done well around people crying and her fiancé is not even close to an exception. The Phantomhive doesn't even have the chance to retaliate when Arthur speaks up from beside Sebastian's body.

"..There were multiple culprits," it's almost as if a lightbulb shines above his head.

"What?!" Meyrin and Finnian scream, Leah and Ciel perking up as well.

"For example, one of them came from up front and started chatting to attract his attention," explains Arthur, envisioning the scene in his head. "Meanwhile, the other one snuck up behind him and hit him over the head. Then, in a flash, the one up front gave him the final blow by stabbing him."

Lau begins to nod. "Well, no matter how, it's certain that this killer didn't feel any mercy or hesitation. To have killed even that butler, this culprit must be extremely—"

"Stop it already!" Finnian screams with his arms tightly secured around Ciel's form. "Why are you having this conversation in front of the young master?! Please think of his feelings!"

"Finny!" Meyrin calls out his outburst. "P—Please excuse him!" she turns to bow at the guests.

Scratching the back of his head, Charles glances over towards the wall. "Well certainly instead of standing around the corpse like this, why don't we temporarily move this thing to the basement? We can discuss who did it and such later over some food," he appears all too comfortable for the situation at hand.

Both Leah and Woodley give a strange look, but the man is the only one to speak. "Isn't that just a little too easygoing.."

"Indeed.. There's no point in being hasty," Lau smiles.

"It's decided then. So you guys are in charge of cleaning that up," says Charles, and he heads for the door with his hands behind his head. "Oh, and the preparations for breakfast also. I'm going ahead to the dining hall, I'm starving."

Everyone's expressions appear downcast or conflicted, mixed with a discomfit for how laidback Charles seems. Even Leah feels strange. To outmatch her in not caring for a serious situation is quite a feat.

Grimsby and Irene also exit the room after Charles, leaving Leah and Ciel with their respective servants. Naturally, the Phantomhive servants appear sad in their mourning for Sebastian but Anna simply purses her lips.

"Shall we finish you up?" she asks, referring to finishing Leah's morning routine.

Brows furrowing, Leah lightly pouts. "What else is there to do?"

"Your hair," says Anna, grabbing ahold of her wrist to begin walking out of the door.

Unbeknownst to Leah, her lady's maid actually wants to prepare her for breakfast, knowing that she hasn't eaten at all. Turning back to look at Ciel, Leah flashes him a more sincere smile this time around, allowing herself to be dragged. A very bad start to the morning and the day isn't even near over.

— ౨ৎ —

The rain remains relentless in its mission to pour down upon Phantomhive Manor, faint sounds of the natural occurrence can be heard even from the dining hall where the guests now sit. Naturally, Ciel — who now wears actual clothes instead of a nightshirt — is at the head of the table with the remaining individuals filing down.

Sitting beside him, Leah aimlessly kicks her feet beneath the table as she quietly sips on a glass of water. Unlike Ran Mao who stares at her food in mild interest, the Barrett avoids looking at the plate. Her natural appetite is low — or perhaps she wants to avoid eating —, but the deaths also play a role in her reluctance to eat, stomach faintly churning.

"He really saved us by preparing all this properly," Ciel drones with an expressionless face, laying a cloth down on his lap.

Across from Leah, Charles enthusiastically holds his utensils in his hands with a bright smile plastered on his face. "This smells good! I'm gonna dig in! I'm really hungry since I didn't get to eat this morning."

The white-haired man manages to devour the food on his plate in a matter of seconds, earning a faint look of disgust from the teenager across from him. 'Eating like a pig..' she fights back a grimace.

Grimsby hums lowly. "What's wrong Irene? You haven't even touched your food," he glances down at her plate with knitted brows.

Patting her mouth with a cloth, Irene hides a faint bead of sweat dripping down her cheek with closed eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not very hungry."

Hearing those words, Ciel brings his attention to Leah who also hasn't touched her plate. In fact, she hasn't even attempted to pick up her utensils.

"You aren't eating.." he whispers. Ciel can recall the time Thomas ratted her out for her distaste of eating in fear of getting big, feeling a sense of discomfort.

Leah takes another sip of her water, feeling Anna's eyes that bore into the back of her head. "I don't want it," she speaks firmly even though she can feel a slight pang of hunger in her stomach.

Before Ciel has a chance to reply, their focus is drawn towards the current topic of the table. An empty seat.

Charles points a fork in the direction of her side. "The one next to you."

"Oh my.. Indeed, there's one too many," Irene looks down to her left. "Perhaps the chef got the numbers wrong."

Ciel's face hardens at the sight of yet another untouched plate. "The one who prepared breakfast was Sebastian. He wouldn't mix up the numbers," he states confidently.

"Huh? Then whose is it?"

"We're all.. ah! Mr. Phelps isn't here, is he."

"Ah, since he's always so inconspicuous, I didn't notice."

"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen him all morning."

Releasing a laugh, Woodley smiles it off. "Looks like he overslept a little too much."

Despite a motion that was meant to make the room feel more upbeat, it remains quiet. Tensions are too high for the guests to be freely joking or sharing laughs, though it stops no one from trying. It isn't until Arthur shoves himself up from his seat does Woodley's laughter die down.

"Excuse me!" his face is overcast. "Should we go have a look in the Earl's bedroom?"

Ciel is the first to perk up, followed by the other guests at Arthur's question. To realize that another person is missing could only mean one thing, as it has been hours since anyone was awoken. Phelps couldn't possibly sleep that much.

Placing his cloth to the side, Ciel also takes a stand. "I'll take you there."

Calm is almost immediately thrown out of the window in favor of the males beginning to sprint for Ciel's bedroom. They shoot down the halls and up the stairs, followed by a curious Leah who struggles to keep up without severely losing her breath.

Their loud footsteps pound against the floor, creating what sounds like a stampede. Compared to the men, Leah hardly makes a noise. Though it may be because she has slowed down a significant amount to try and breathe.

"It's over there, to the right!" Ciel calls out from a few feet behind Arthur.

Turning a sharp corner, Arthur immediately runs up to the bedroom door and begins pounding on it. "Mr. Phelps! Mr. Phelps, if you are in there, please answer me!" he yells, his voice traveling through the hallways.

He frantically turns the doorknob only to realize that the door is locked, his eyes uncomfortably wide. "Earl! Where's the key?"

"I don't know," Ciel answers with a shake of his head in worry, not noticing Leah approaching his side.

Arthur's face pales. "What?!" he shouts.

"Sebastian took care of the key to my room. No one else knows where he kept it except for him," explains Ciel. "Since he's dead, even I don't know where.."

Stepping up to the situation, Finnian pushes both Leah and Ciel aside with a determined look on his face. "Please get back, Young Master! I'll—"

"Get out of the way."

Thrown out of the way, Finnian clutches onto the teens when numerous slashes barely dodge their heads. The movements are loud as they slice through the wood doors, but effectively startling the four individuals that are closest to it.

"Whoa!"

With a plate of food and a sword in his hand, Charles looks disinterested at the scene. "We need to be quick, seeing as there's still dessert."

'Does this man only think about food?'

Leah hardly had a moment to register her thoughts before the group runs once again, through the cleanly cut door to the Ciel's bedroom. Should she be there? Most likely not. But does she continue anyway? Absolutely.

"Mr. Phelps!" Arthur calls out.

His gaze is set ahead of him but when he feels a squish beneath his shoe, he is compelled to look down. There, lying on the carpet is the dead body of Patrick Phelps. With wide eyes and drool leaking from his mouth, his lifeless hands are stuck in the position of tightly clenching the carpet, earning an uncomfortable and low groan from Leah.

"Mr. Phelps!"

[runningthroughthegarden]

sometimes friends fall out for the right reasons pt2 - rowan laslow

Summary: After a quick love confession both of your lives begin to crash down. Until you both realize being together will always fix everything. Well almost everything.

Word count: 971

It's been a couple days since your fight with Rowan. 

You've spent the last two days at school completely ignoring him. You couldn’t bear to see him. Your eyes were constantly puffy. Hair a mess. You barely even spoke. Everyone around you knew something was wrong but they had no idea what happened. 

What you didn't know was that Rowan was going through the same thing.

Rowan’s pov - 3 days ago

As I rush down the steps of the Nightshade library, I can hear my mother's voice ringing through my head. I have to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this Wednesday girl is going to do. I'm going to be the one to save this school.

I quickly rip out the page I've been desperately searching for.

I'm already forming my plan as I exit the library, carefully planning my next move.

I look up to sky, noticing the stars. Fuck.

I know I was supposed to me y/n but I was finally putting together the missing pieces of the puzzle. Right now, this is the most important thing. This school needs a hero and it's me.

-

I wake up to find Xavier already gone. Thank God. I can't stand to be around anyone right now and I need to figure out when I'm going to kill Wednesday. A couple hours go by, and I start to realize how difficult this is going to be. But who said being a hero was easy.

I feel like I'm going crazy. My powers are out of control, and I can't even control my emotions. All I can think about are my mother's words.

I hear a knock at the door and quickly hide the papers scattered across the floor.

I open the door to see y/n. She angrily pushes past me asking why I didn't meet up with her. No one can know what I'm doing so I use the same excuse.

I stand there silently as my best friend yells at me. I seriously can't take this shit right now. I have so many other things to worry about and this isn't one of them.

Something in me finally snaps and I start yelling back.

"Jesus Christ, I don't need this right now y/n!! You have no fucking idea what I've been going through. I'm SO sorry I missed our stupid little date, but I have actual shit I need to get done. And I don't need you following me around like a lost puppy. Just leave me the hell alone" I yell.

The next she says changes everything.

"And to think I was in love with you" she sighs scoffs.

I feel my whole body weaken at that simple sentence. I feel my eyes soften. I have waited for this moment for so long.

That's when my mother's words replay in my head. I can't.

I snap back. I back her into the wall just to feel close to her one last time.

"Forget about your stupid little crush and get out of my room. I don't need you"

She rushes out of my room. I throw myself against my bed. "It had to be done" I think.

Present day

I am going to kill Wednesday the night of the festival.

It's taken the past couple of days to figure out but I'm ready.

I've noticed how horrible y/n looks. A part of me feels terrible but I know it was the right thing to do. I had to cut off ties with her at some point. The love confession was sort of a setback. But I don't need this right now. She hates me, which is perfect. Now she won't get hurt. I can only protect her in that way.

y/n pov

The rest of the week was shit. It went the same as previous days, crying and ignoring Rowan. It's Friday night and I'm spending it in bed watching sad romcoms.

I was just about to fall asleep when I hear a frantic knocking at my door.

I open it to see an even more disheveled Rowan. Before I can say anything, he walks through the door, pacing around my room. He's hyperventilating with tears in his eyes.

"Rowan what the hell is wrong with you?!?" You questioned with concern.

"I'm going crazy" he says stopping in front of you.

"What do you mean Row?" you say confused.

"My mom. And the book. and the school. and Wednesday." He says pulling at his hair.

"Row please just calm down for a second" you say resting your two hands on his cheeks.

You stare into his eyes while his breathing slows down.

He looks like he's having a battle inside his head. Thinking of what to say or do next.

"I'm in love with you" he confesses.

You stand there in shock, still holding his face in your hands. "What?" you question.

He stays silent, moving his hands to cup your own.

"But-but at your dorm you told me to get out and. and you. you said all those-"

You were quickly cutoff by Rowan smashing his lips against yours. Every ounce of emotion was put into this one kiss. Years of secretly longing for each other. You both began to smile into the kiss.

"I've loved you for a long time" Rowan says, resting his forehead against yours.

"Me too" you whisper.

"I'm sorry I said all those things. I don't know what's been going on with me. But I know whenever when I'm with you, my troubles don't seem so significant. Will you go the festival with me tomorrow?" he questions.

"Of course" you respond with a soft smile.

And there you two were. Two teenagers in love. Hands cupping each other. Foreheads gently resting against each other.

You don't know what tomorrow has in store... but you can only hope for the best.

A/N spoiler!! tomorrow has absolutely NOT the best in store.

tag list! @akikoslippers @stxrg4zer @theesuckerforthe80s @starrypoti0ns @kota-log @pennyluvr @ilikefictionmen @ykyouluvme @yy4ngj @oprvah @ify0useethisn0youdidn0t @wrmmi @seenit

[p0ssywhippedcream]

I have an idea: Giving sweet Matsuda a treat from under the desk at work ;)

hiya sweetpie, this is one of the ones I'd finished and deleted by accident. Thank you so much for your patience!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Matsuda's body awkwardly moves to position his head under his desk in order to find what was tapping his knee. He almost pees himself when your smiling face stares back at him.

"Hi." You say.

"What're are you doing?" He whisper-yells, still in a state of shock.

"Saying hi. Hi."

"Hi, why are you under my desk?"

"To say hi. Hi."

"Hi, why else?"

Your smile grows mischievous. "Give you a little gift."

"What do you me-"

"Matsuda!!" Chief Yagami's voice roars across the room.

"Yes sir!" Matsuda hits his head as he emerges from underneath the desk.

"What are you doing over there?"

"Dropped-.. a pen."

Yagami's bushy eyebrows meet.

"Get back to work." He throws over his shoulder as he walks away.

Right as Matsuda turns back to his computer, a set of teasing hands is on him again. They trail up his thighs and to his pants buckle, fumbling with the buttons aimlessly. He hears you curse and say something about waiting for this all day.

"Y/n!" He doesn't quite lower his head as low this time but he makes sure he can see your eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Told you, giving you a little gift. You just sit tight-" You enunciate the words with a pop of his buttons, "-and enjoy. Try to be quiet, 'kay?"

He can hardly answer before you're dragging his body forward with firm hands on his calves. His entire lower body is covered by the desk so nobody can see it; therefore meaning nobody can see you either.

Once your hands have shimmied his pants open enough pull his quickly-hardening cock out, you pause and ask "Is this okay?"

Matsuda nodded and realized you couldn't see him and said, "Yes, of course," Then the tip of his cock meets your mouth just as he mutters, "Thank you..."

Your mouth swallows the head easily, the salty precum rubbing the back of your throat. Your tongue flickers around the ridges, drinking in the feeling of the throbbing cock sitting heavily on your tongue.

Matsuda almost faints when you begin to move, allowing more of him inside the tight, wet cavern. His brain draws a blank when his balls finally hit your chin, all he can think is how he wished he could see your pretty face right now. You always look gorgeous taking his dick.

He tries to focus on the blinking black line on the empty canvas of his work but he just can't. You just feel so damn gooddddd, oh fuck is he seriously about to cum already?

No, it's only been... three minutes?! He glances at the time and flushes even harder with embarrassment. You wouldn't mind if he came this soon right? I mean you expected it eventually and it's not like he usually lasts long with the feeling of your mouth on him anyway.

Fuck, okay. It's not like he's able to hold back anyway, he was fooling himself pretending he had a choice. And he clearly doesn't because his thighs seize against his will and his hands jolt from where they rest shaking on the armchairs, both signs he's about to orgasm.

His cock spurts in your mouth, spilling hot semen down your throat as his hips jerk to meet your face eagerly. He stiffs a cry with a fist in his mouth, nearly brought to tears by the sheer force of it combining with the terribly powerful pleasure you give.

"Fuck..." He murmurs as he pulls a saliva-covered hand from his mouth and pants heavily in his now sweaty seat.

Suddenly your face appears on his now re-clothed crotch with a grin.

"Feel good?"

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔☾︎

Ch.16 - Ch.18

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.8k

In class Y/n and Scott stare at the surprise return student. Stiles runs in and takes his seat behind Scott in a frenzy. Y/n kept her gaze forward while Scott turned to Stiles as he started to talk. "Guys, I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I got really terrible, horrible, very, very bad news."

"I think we already know." Scott gestures to the seat in front of Y/n where there is seated a very smug looking Isaac.

After class Stiles informs them what he found about the kanima. "All right, I only found one thing online called the Kanima. It's a werejaguar from South America that goes after murderers."

"That thing was not a jaguar."

"Yeah, and I'm not exactly a murderer."

"Yeah, but you did see it kill somebody, which is probably why it tried to kill you. And it's still trying to kill you, and it probably won't stop until you're dead."

Stiles pauses as he stares at Scott. "You know, sometimes I really begin to question this 'friendship'." Stiles makes quote marks in the air and Y/n chuckles as she pulls him along.

"I also looked through my grimoire." She said when they caught up to Scott. "I didn't find much and what I did find was pretty much everything Derek said. When you get the Bite the shape you take reflects who you are, if it doesn't kill you first. I had an ancestor who knew someone who turned into a kanima. They said that the Kanima shape was most likely derived, partially if not all, from the person's self image. Something like identity issues? They weren't very clear."

"Why can't it ever be 'this is this and this is how you take care of it'?" She just shrugged as they entered their next class together, this time the boys sitting next to each other with Y/n behind Stiles.

Jackson came in a minute later and sat behind Scott. "Hey, dick, and testicles left and right." He calls the three. "What the hell is a kanima?" The question is enough to make all three turn to him in shock. But they can't say anything more as Coach gets the class' attention.

"All right, listen up. Quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult..." He chuckles a bit. "I'm not even too sure I could pass it. Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?" A few hands go up, including Lydia. He waves someone up. "Let's go, buddy."

Jackson had quickly told them about his recent encounter with Derek and what he heard in the hall just before class. "Paralyzed from the neck down. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"I'm familiar with the sensation." Stiles says.

"Wait..." Scott speaks up. "Why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?"

"How should I know?"

"Wait, do they think it's Lydia?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know, all I heard was her name and something about Chemistry."

"Jackson!" Coach yells as he's now standing near the group. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Um..." He glances around. "Just an undying admiration for my- my Coach."

Coach smiles a bit. "That's really kind of you." Jackson gives a small 'modest' smile. "Now shut up! Shut it! Anybody else?" When no one else speaks he goes back up to the front of the class.

Scott then leans towards his friends. "How do we know it's not her?"

"Because I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil."

"Then it's definitely not her." Y/n shakes her head. "Lydia's eyes are 50% evil, 60 on bad days, 40 on good."

"Y/n, that's not a very good argument."

"I'm aware of that, but it's not her. Whatever is happening it's not because of her." She looked down at her notebook then, shutting out any more argument about Lydia being the kanima. When she looked back up to maybe listen to what Coach was saying she found she was no longer in the classroom.

Y/n sits at her desk in the middle of the woods. Fog hugs the trees, diffusing any light that may have touched her. She slowly stood up from the seat and looked around. There was no one in sight. When she turned back the desk was gone and a trail of wolfsbane was left in its place. She followed it through the woods towards a house. The Hale house. It was quiet. She walked in and looked to her left. Her eyes widened in surprise with what she saw. She saw herself standing in the middle of the room, arm outstretched with a clenched fist, red trickling between her fingers and down the side of her hand as she squeezed blood onto the floor. The blood soaked into the wood leaving no trace behind and the other Y/n looked up at her with glowing eyes and a smirk.

"Y/n!" Someone whisper shouted at her and she shot her head up with a startled gasp. Stiles had been calling her name with no answer until right then. He looked at her with furrowed brows. "Are you okay?"

"Um... Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She brushed off. He didn't seem convinced.

Before he could say anything his eyes darted down to her notebook. "What's that?"

She looked down to see she had written something in another language. Mihi prohibere. She quickly shut her notebook with a snap. "It's nothing." She dismissed. But it wasn't actually nothing. It was Latin, it said 'stop me'.

"Lydia~" Coach calling her in a sing song caught everyone's attention. Lydia opened her eyes with a gasp as tears stained her cheeks. She was visibly shaken by something as she looked around with stuttering gasps. Coach looked at the board behind her. "Okay then, anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?" The class laughs and Lydia turns in confusion only to see she had written something seemingly in a foreign language several times.

"What is that, Greek?" Scott wondered.

"No, actually, I think it is English." Stiles had taken a picture of the board and reversed it to show them, but Y/n already knew what it said.

"'Someone help me'." She muttered, but they heard her. She looked at Lydia in worry.

"Derek is not gonna kill her without proof." The three walk into Chemistry, Scott assuring Y/n about Lydia.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." She huffed.

"All right, so he tests her like he did Jackson, right? But when and where?" Stiles wonders.

They look at Lydia flipping through a book at a station and then at the door where Isaac and Erica had just walked in. "I think here and now." Scott said. The five look at each other, glancing at Lydia for a moment until they all rush forward, each heading for Lydia. Scott sits next to Lydia on one side and Stiles pulls up a chair on her other. Y/n sits at the table next to Stiles while the Betas sit behind Lydia and Scott. Allison sits across from Scott and looks at him in question and he gestures to the two behind him.

"Einstein once said, 'two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe'." Mr. Harris starts off the class walking down an aisle. "I myself have encountered infinite stupidity." He claps Stiles on the shoulder at that. "So to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one. Erica, you take the first station. You'll start with-" All the guys (bar Scott, Stiles and Isaac) and a couple girls hold up their hands. "I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down. Start with Mr. McCall." He finished. Erica smiled amusedly at Scott and glanced at Allison. "All right, next two."

Y/n was sat next to someone she didn't know for the first round of the experiment and she had to watch Erica 'flirt' with Scott in the seat in front of her to try and get to Allison. Allison was sitting next to Lydia although when Mr. Harris rang his bell it was time to switch. She warned Lydia to not talk to Isaac or Erica before she had to move. Next Scott was with Lydia and Y/n had the great pleasure of being saddled with Isaac. She gave him a glance and he smirked at her. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to the appointed task.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once, pup. You touch even one hair on my ginger princess's head, I will burn your little werewolf ass to a crisp and turn your ashes into a crystal that I'll give to her as a birthday present."

He laughs. "Really?"

"It's a promise."

"I've never actually been to one of her big, invite-only birthday parties." He muses. "I did ask her out once though."

"I've heard this story before so I'm gonna pass."

"It was the first day of freshman year."

"Thought everything would be different for you in high school, but she said no." She feigned sadness.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, she even laughed. Told me to come back when the bike I rode to school had an engine, not a chain."

"Yeah, she's got a thing for motorcycles. You got turned down. Suck it up. It's not the only time you'll ever be said no to by anyone. Maybe you should learn to channel that negative energy into something productive, like writing."

"Nah, I was thinking I'd channel it into killing her. I'm not very good at writing." He looks at her and she glares daggers at him.

Mr. Harris rings his bell again. "And switch." Y/n was sat with someone else she didn't know and Scott and Stiles ended up together while Allison got put with Erica. Isaac slid into a seat next to Lydia and when Stiles tried to get up Mr. Harris slammed a stick in front of him making him sit back down with a jump. "If you're trying to test my patience, Mr. Stilinski, I guarantee it'll be a failing grade." He warns and goes back to his desk.

More time passes and Y/n is tense as she finishes. Mr. Harris rings the bell one last time. "Time. If you catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." Y/n looked and there was indeed a crystal. When she looked at Scott and Stiles they had some sort of beige sludge. Isaac picked up the crystal with tongs as he and Lydia admired it. "Now for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy... You can eat it."

Y/n, Scott, and Stiles glanced at each other as they looked at the questionable thing in front of the boys. There was no way they could eat that. She thought. But then she and Scott looked at Lydia to see her taking the crystal Isaac offered. They could see a clear liquid dripping off of it. Kanima venom. She put it to her tongue. "Lydia!" Scott jumped up and everyone turned to look at him.

"What?" She asked.

"... Nothing." He sat back down. She turned away and took a bite of the crystal. They waited and… She was perfectly fine. The kanima venom had no effect on her. Scott looked out the window to see Derek had seen everything.

...

Scott, Allison, Stiles and Y/n walk into Coach's office and close the door to discuss what to do next. "Derek's outside waiting for Lydia." Scott points out.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison asks.

"If he thinks she's the kanima, then yes, especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not her." Y/n insists. "I was with her before that thing came out."

"Y/n, she didn't pass the test. Nothing happened."

"It's a stupid fucking test!" She throws her arms up. "She has some type of immunity to the supernatural. I don't know how yet but she does."

"It doesn't matter because Derek thinks it's her." Allison says. "So either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"Well, I really don't think he's gonna do anything here, not at school." Scott says.

"What about after school?" Scott sighs. "Okay, well..." Allison sighs as well. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By 3:00?" Stiles asks.

"There could be something in the bestiary."

"Oh, you mean the 900-page book written in Archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that."

Allison thinks for a moment. "Actually, I think I know someone who can translate it."

"Uh, I can talk to Derek, maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not her." Scott offers. "But if anything happens, you guys let me and Y/n handle it, okay?"

"What does that mean?" Allison asked him.

"It means you can't heal like we do. I just don't want you getting hurt."

Allison gives him a look and digs in her bag, pulling out a small crossbow. "I can protect myself."

"Again, that's why you're my friend." Y/n praises her and she smiles back.

Scott still looks worried and she puts down the weapon. "What? Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt. Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? I- I don't care if your dad finds out. Call, text, scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can." Allison gives him a tiny nod. "We have until 3:00." She nods more this time. He turns and walks to the door when a whistle of an arrow sounds, quickly turning back and catching the small arrow that nearly went into his head.

Y/n sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Allison turns and holds her hand out to Stiles. "Uh..." He hands her back the crossbow he had been examining curiously. "Sorry. It's a sensitive trigger on that."

Y/n and Stiles went with Lydia to the library to keep an eye on her while Allison went to the school counselor to see if she could try and translate the kanima pages. Scott went to talk with Derek on the field. Boyd was there with him. As Scott talked to Derek Erica and Isaac were heading for Lydia. Scott was hoping he could change Derek's mind, but he wasn't counting on it. Erica and Isaac go to the library only to find no Lydia. Y/n, Stiles, Allison, and Jackson were walking with Lydia down the halls, taking her to Scott's house under the pretense of a study group.

"If we're doing a study group, why didn't we just stay in the library?" She asked.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else." Stiles answered.

"Hmm, well, why don't they just meet us in the library?"

"Oh, that would've been a great idea! Too late now."

"Okay, hold on-"

Y/n put an arm over her shoulders. "Scott's a strange guy, you know this. He works better in more comfortable settings like his home." Lydia huffs, but doesn't argue any further. Stiles drives his Jeep with Y/n in the passenger, the other three managing to fit in the back.

When they get to Scott's house Lydia had more questions. "If we're studying at Scott's house, then where's Scott?"

"He'll be here. Just running an errand I think."

"Thanks." Allison muttered to Jackson in helping escort Lydia out of school.

"I needed to talk to her anyway."

When they get inside Stiles locks the handle, deadbolt, and the chain on the door. Lydia gives him a questioning look. "Uh, there's been a few break-ins around the neighborhood." And then he put a chair under the handle for good measure. Another questioning look. "And a murder! Yeah, it was bad." Y/n pats him on the arm while Allison gestures for Jackson to take Lydia upstairs.

"Lydia, follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute."

She sighs. "Seriously? What is going on with everyone?" She mutters before she follows him. While they go upstairs, Stiles and Allison keep watch out the front while Y/n sits on the steps, ready to jump up and go wherever to protect her friends.

Y/n had her head in her hands, fingers raking through her hair as she waited. The sun starts to set. She picks her head up suddenly. "They're here." Allison and Stiles look at her and then out the window. Sure enough, Derek and his Betas are standing across the street from the McCall house.

Allison dials Scott on Stiles' phone. "It's me."

"What's wrong?"

"You need to get here now. Right now."

"Okay, I'm leaving now. On my way."

More time passes and they keep checking to see where the werewolves are. Allison looks at her phone and taps a couple buttons. "What are you doing?" Stiles asks.

"I think... I think I have to call my dad."

"No, but if he finds you here-"

"You and Scott-" Y/n continues until Allison cuts them off.

"I know. But what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia."

Y/n gets up and stands next to her friend, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "Allison, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her, okay? We'll be fine." Allison sighs and puts her phone away. Y/n then hears Lydia cry a bit, that alone enough to make her brow draw together, but she frowned when she felt a spark of something. Something other. But it was only for a moment and then it was gone.

"I got an idea. Just shoot one of 'em." Stiles whispers to Allison.

"Are you serious?" She whispers back.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it. Or at least give it a shot, right?"

"Okay."

"Stiles, you guys don't need to prove anything." Y/n also whispers. "Just shooting them now could actually have negative consequences."

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight, so if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off."

"I doubt it."

"It's worth a try. Just shoot one of 'em."

Allison peeks out the window. "Which one?"

"Uh... Derek. Yeah, shoot him, preferably in the head."

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can."

"Okay, uh, just shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two."

"No, he means three." Y/n and Stiles look through a window to see only Isaac missing.

"Where the hell is Isaac?" He wonders. The three back up, Allison holding her bow up to the door.

Y/n senses him a moment too late. She turns just as Isaac grabs her by the neck and tosses her back towards the steps. He then disarms and knocks Allison aside. Next he smacks Stiles aside. His eyes glow and fangs show as he stares down at Stiles and then he lunges with a growl. Y/n winced as she pushed herself up. For the moment Stiles and Allison were holding their own against Isaac. Y/n raced up the stairs to check on Lydia. She found her just as she turned the corner.

"Lydia, get back." She said quietly. "Someone is trying to get in, okay? Just go hide in Scott's bathroom. I'll come for you when it's safe. Go. Lydia, go." She said more firmly and Lydia finally listened, running back into Scott's room where she noticed Jackson was missing. But the noises downstairs prompted her to go to the bathroom and hide as instructed, calling the police as she did. Y/n ran back down to take care of Isaac. She scooped up Allison's crossbow and pushed it into her hands. "Go watch Lydia." Allison nodded and did as instructed. Y/n used her magic to give her an extra boost as she grabbed Isaac and threw him back from Stiles. Isaac quickly got back up and growled at her. "That doesn't scare me."

Allison closed the door behind her and noticed the open window with venom on the sill. "Guys, it's here!" She called for them to hear. Erica kicked down the door and Allison pointed the bow at her, the laser pointing at the blonde's chest.

She scoffs. "Hmm... This might make me sound like kind of a bitch, but I've always wondered what it feels like to steal someone's boyfriend. I bet it's a pretty sick rush of power. I think I might try it with Scott." She chuckles. "You know what... I don't think it's gonna be that hard. Because why would he be waiting around to steal ten minutes with you when he can have me anytime he wants?" Allison shoots her arrow and Erica catches it as swiftly as Scott did.

She laughs. "You didn't really think that would work, did you?"

"Actually, I did." Erica looks down at her hand and finds that Allison had coated the arrow with kanima venom. Allison smirks as Erica shouts and falls onto her stomach, completely paralyzed. She steps over and crouches to hover her face over the blonde's. She moves a bit of Erica's hair back. "I thought you were psychic... Bitch." She smiles and leaves Erica.

Derek and Boyd watch from outside, hearing furniture shifting and growling coming from inside. Derek smirks until the door opens and his Betas are tossed on the grass in front of him, knocked out and unable to move. He sighs and looks up when Scott steps onto his porch, Y/n, Allison, and Stiles with him. "I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott." Derek says. "You're not an Omega. You're already an Alpha of your own pack." He smiles. "But you know you can't beat me."

"Wanna test that?" Y/n glares, only backing down when Scott looks at her, silently telling her that he's got it.

"I can hold you off until the cops get here." Sirens are heard just after as the police draw near. Then hissing and scurrying footsteps are heard catching everyone's attention. The four run off the porch to see the kanima on the roof. It screeches at them and runs off.

"Lydia." Y/n runs into the house for her friend.

Derek glances down to the teens at his feet. "Get them out of here." Derek instructs Boyd. But then everyone looks back towards the door as Y/n brings out a very upset looking Lydia.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Lydia sounds even more upset.

Scott looks towards where the kanima ran off. There was only one person left unaccounted for. "It's Jackson."

Ch.18

[george-weasleys-girl]

Chapter 24 - North Star

Warnings: a couple curse words

Summary: With summer vacation coming to a close and Y/N's impending departure looming, she and George create a binding spell

Start Here:

~•~

Hogwarts, Autumn 1995

George trudged outside, flexing his stiff hands, causing the wounds on his knuckles to bleed again. Grinding his teeth, he ignored the pain and turned toward the Black Lake, ruminating over the day's events. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew Malfoy got what he deserved. It'd been a long time coming, and today, he crossed a line. But, of course, Professor Umbridge didn't see it that way, and now George, Harry, and Fred were banned from Quidditch for life.

"Fucking pink toad," George muttered to himself.

The wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of rain. George heaved a sigh. He wouldn’t be out here braving the impending rainstorm if it weren't for Angelina. When he left, she and Fred were on the verge of breaking up. She was livid that they'd gotten banned and had no problem letting everyone, especially Fred, Harry, and himself know just how she felt.

So, he left. The last thing he needed was to be told repeatedly how stupid he was.

George plopped down on his and Y/N's favorite spot by the lake, all his energy draining away, leaving him empty and withdrawn. He missed Y/N terribly, especially in moments like this, when the world lay heavy on his shoulders. Her steadfast reassurance was what he needed most right now. She would know exactly what to say to calm his frayed nerves.

George reached for the next best thing and pulled out the silver locket that hung around his neck. He traced the engraved star with his thumb while a gentle warmth spread through him, dulling his heartache. For a brief moment, the faint scent of sandalwood and roses flooded his senses.

Bringing the talisman to his lips, he gave it a single kiss before tucking it back under his shirt and laying down in the grass to watch the storm clouds roll in.

~•~

Muggle London, Late July 1995

George and Y/N made their way through the bustling crowds. He'd convinced Fred to let him use a small amount of the winnings Harry gave them to buy Y/N a little something before she left.

"I can't believe Molly was ok with this," Y/N said, dodging a gaggle of muggle teenagers taking up half the sidewalk.

"She doesn't know."

"What?" Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, causing the man behind her to curse when he almost slammed into her.

"Sorry, so sorry," she apologized. The man muttered under his breath and hurried past her.

"C'mon, love." George said, taking Y/N's hand. "We're nearly there."

"Where is there?" she asked. Her boyfriend had been very secretive about the whole trip. And now, upon finding out that Mrs. Weasley had no idea what was going on, she began to worry. With Death Eaters lurking in the shadows, their little excursion wasn't entirely safe. "Please tell me Fred knows, at least?" She asked, hoping someone knew where they were going in case something happened.

"Of course he does, and so does Ginny. Sirius, too. He kept mum distracted so we could get out the door."

"Oh good," she said just before another thought occurred to her. "Wait, how are we supposed to get back in? Do we have a set time? You know she watches that door like a hawk."

George shrugged. "We'll already be done and back. What can she do? Yell at us?"

Y/N glared at him. Molly was already furious. Three days ago, she found out they were sleeping together and damn near blew the roof off the place. Even Kreacher ducked for cover. Then, George refusing to budge an inch on the matter, infuriated her even more. Discovering they'd snuck out would only make matters worse.

Y/N sighed. "George Weasley, you're going to be the death of me."

~•~

Ilvermorny - Autumn 1995

It had been a long day. Master Bellflower had kept her and the other two hemalurgy apprentices late, leaving her little time to shower and change before rushing to dinner, followed by the planning meeting for the senior prank.

It, too, ran late. Very late.

Y/N lay in bed, exhausted, but wide awake. She wasn't used to having the bed to herself anymore, having gotten used to sleeping next to George every night, even if he did hog the bed sometimes. When they weren't cuddling, her boyfriend seemed to liquify and spread out to fill up all available space. The memory brought a rueful smile to her face. Rolling onto her back, she pulled the locket from underneath her night shirt. It felt a little warmer than usual, but considering that she was under a mountain of blankets, she thought nothing of it. His comforting scent of gunpowder and caramel encompassed her. Closing her eyes, she pretended he was there beside her, and soon, she was fast asleep.

The sun was cresting the horizon when Y/N awoke with a start, feeling as though something was wrong. It took her a moment to realize her locket was no longer simply warm but burning hot. It'd never done that before. Throwing her blankets off, she tossed on her robe and slippers. Glancing at the clock, she had an hour before she needed to get ready for the day. Perfect. Just enough time to pen a letter to George and send it on its way.

~•~

12 Grimmauld Place, one week before Y/N's departure

George and Y/N sat on the bed facing each other. Between them lay a knife, a piece of parchment upon which was a spell they had written together, and on either side two silver lockets. The lockets were not the gifts he'd had in mind when he took her shopping, but the moment he saw them, he knew that's what they'd come for.

His mind drifted back to the night over spring break when he and Y/N lay outside at the Burrow, watching the stars.

"That's Venus," Y/N had pointed out. "The evening star. She shines first. She shines brightest. And she shines longest. Perhaps that's why she was named after the Goddess of Love. A hope that her light would shine down and bless all the loves of this world for all time."

George smiled and squeezed her hand.

"And that one is Polaris," she pointed out another sparkling point in the sky. "Also, known as the North Star. It moves in a very small circle around the North Pole, while all the other stars rotate around it. Because it appears stationary, muggle seafarers used to use it to find true North. So, if you're ever lost, look for Polaris. It will guide you home."

He was about to tell Y/N that she was his North Star, but then Harry joined them, and he completely forgot about it until he saw the matching lockets.

"Hey you." Y/N's soft touch and gentle voice brought him back to the present. "Ready?"

George nodded. As one, they rose, lighting the candles sunwise around the room before returning to the bed. Sitting side by side, both holding the parchment, they spoke in unison.

You are my North Star.

My compass points to you, guiding me home.

Together, we will build a bridge to one another,

in a place between Awake and Dreaming,

between Matter and Spirit,

between what was, what is, and what is to come.

Then, taking the knife, they cut a small lock from one another's hair and placed them inside each other's locket.

Holding the lockets in the palm of their hands, Y/N spoke first. "I am Y/N L/N, and this is now my link to George Weasley."

George followed, enunciating the words with great care. The moment he spoke the final syllable, something shifted. It wasn't showy like most magic. No flashing lights or loud bangs. It was an inner shift. Subtle and quiet. And yet they could feel the delicate string now connecting them to one another.

He leaned forward to kiss her when the door swung open, causing them both to jump. They'd forgotten to lock the door.

Molly tossed two letters at them before rolling her eyes at all the lit candles and slamming the door shut.

George and Y/N looked down at the letters. In their hands were two identical warnings against underage magic from the Ministery.

They looked at each other and giggled.

"Oops."

~•~

Next Chapter:

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

[drst]

Nate Shelley should DIAF and suffer forever

I remember thinking when S2 of "Ted Lasso" ended that they were definitely going to try to do some sort of redemption arc with Nate as a key part of S3, and also dreading it because I doubted they were going to pull it off successfully. I wanted to be wrong, because I really hated Jaime during S1 and they managed to get him through a good redemption arc and turn him around. But Nate's actions were much more repulsive than even the worst of Jaime's behavior in S1, and I got the feeling the writers weren't going to understand Nate's arc was going to have to account for that.

What I didn't expect was the show to just chuck all of Nate's character development through S2 out, pretend he had a personality transplant, and expect us to just forget. I have no idea why the writing tanked so hard on this but it did.

Nathan Shelley is a sexist and a bully. He always was a bully. The very first thing we see Nate do? He runs across the pitch to scream at Ted and Beard for being on the grass. Nate can't yell at anyone who actually works for the team, but he sees an opportunity to yell at people who aren't part of the team and he leaps at it, almost literally. (Should he be telling unknown people not to be on the grass? Yeah. He doesn't tell, he runs and screams.) It's played for laughs, of course, that the guys he thought he could chastise without repercussions are his new bosses. But we see this pattern with Nate over and over. As soon as he feels like he's in a superior position over anyone, he bullies them.

The whistle he gets at the end of S1 when he gets promoted? Ted has to take it away. I noticed when I was rewatching, Nate keeps blowing the whistle indoors. He's so addicted to having that power, Ted has to take his whistle away and give him one that doesn't work to stop him from doing it inside.

Obviously right off the bat in S2 he starts bullying Will, which just gets progressively worse during the season. He publicly bullies Colin too, and only apologizes because Beard makes him do it. It's a credit to the acting that we can feel how much Nate is seething through the apology and the scene with the jersey afterward, but Nate, the character, is enraged that he's been made to apologize.

Nate's also a sexist asshole. He makes a number of comments about women that are gross as hell during S1. The episode where he's promoted to being a coach, when at first he thinks he's being fired, he turns to Rebecca and calls her a "harpy." The OWNER of the club, he picks a specifically gendered insult to throw at her in his rage. And of course, he assaults Keeley. I know a lot of people don't want to call it an assault, but he knows full well Keeley is not interested in him, that she's in a relationship with Roy, that she's not coming on to him and is in fact going out of her way to do him a personal favor, and he forces her into a kiss anyway. The magnitude of that fuck up was really glossed over on the show and, unfortunately, by quite a few of the fans. Keeley being hot, or physically close to Nate in the scene, or open about sex and her sexuality, doesn't make it okay for a guy who knows 100% she's not interested or available to force sexual contact on her.

There's more evidence of Nate's sexism too. When he gives the speech before the Everton match, he specifically uses gendered insults on Colin and Issac, but not on Sam or Dani. He says Issac has been playing like a "big dumb pussy" and talks about Colin waxing his pubic hair (something associated with women and gay men, ironic given what we later learn about Colin). And again, this is played for laughs at the time. Colin and Issac were bullying Nate pretty badly (which is terrible! Not making excuses for that) at the beginning so we understand why Nate has an extra animus against the two of them. But he doesn't use gendered insults when he has a go at Dani or Sam, or especially Roy.

His speech to Roy actually made me think the show had a better handle on Nate than it turned out to have, because while he insults Roy, he adds the bit about "I'm worried what it's going to do to you if you keep it all to yourself." It made it seem like Nate does care, at least about some of these guys, which is important to being a good coach. But that care doesn't really make another appearance, and by S2 he's decided all the players are idiots and anything that goes wrong is their fault, or Ted's fault for not listening to Nate.

Bullies are always very aware of the heirarchy and where they are in it. They always know who not to piss off and who they can attack freely. Nate is like that from Day 1. And like most bullies, Nate cannot stand to be made fun of, and he cannot ever admit to a mistake. They run with the whole "wunderkind/wonder kid" thing and he repeatedly denies that he misspoke, because his ego can't take it.

What frustrates me is the show seems like they set a lot of this up on purpose. S1 Issac and Colin don't stop bullying Nate until Roy (at Ted's urging) headbutts Colin and orders them to stop. The bullies continue bullying until someone in power steps in and makes them stop. Nate bullies Colin in front of the whole team (Nate's a coach by then), but Beard (higher in the ranks than Nate, who also has the "I haven't told Ted yet" card) orders him to apologize, which he does grudgingly. Then he takes the fury he's feeling out on the person who can't fight back, Will.

The thing is, there is NO WAY ON EARTH Nate's bullying behavior stopped just because he became a head coach. There's no way his ego suddenly became capable of tolerating people saying negative things about him, especially on social media. Put a bully into a position of power over more people, they get worse, not better. I know they retconned this whole "oh Nate's a certified genius!" thing in there, but there is no way Nate, who was obsessively scrolling Twitter in S2, just got over that in S3, when he was running a whole team, which probably lost some matches, when presumably the fans blamed him as the head coach. But we never see that happen. There's no way he had an entire team and staff under him and he treated everyone nicely. This isn't how actual bullies work, especially when they are in an environment where the person in power above them is encouraging the bullying, which is exactly the kind of guy Rupert is.

We see a bit of Nate being a dick to Ted in S3, but no indication that he's struggling with managing the team or the coaches. All of that power-hungry, ego-obsessed behavior just kind of goes poof. It makes no sense. And somehow I'm supposed to not only care but be happy with all the time wasted on this bullying, sexist asshole dating… the woman from S1 who correctly rejected his attempt to pressure her into giving him his number?

And of course, Nate's ultimate sin, betraying Ted's personal medical information to the press, just sits there. Unaddressed. Never adequately dealt with. Trent pays more of a price for what Nate did than Nate himself does. I guess we maybe were supposed to infer that Nate regretted it? But we're never told it in any meaningful way. We're never shown that Nate grasps that what he did crossed a line from personal insult to risking the team's well being, as well as exposing Ted's private information to the public in a way that is wildly unethical and terrible behavior for a SPORTS TEAM COACH who has to manage personal information about other people all the time. They just handwave it as "Ted forgave him so it's okay."

Beard seems to be the only one who grasps the magnitude of it, and then Ted shames him into forgiving Nate near the end - and for no real reason. Nate contributes absolutely nothing to the team's overall status and success by being there at the end. The play Jaime uses, which Nate came up with, was from S1, so Ted would've used it even if Nate hadn't been on the sidelines. Having Nate in the clubhouse again helps nobody, makes zero difference to the team. My assumption is that Apple was already pressing to try for a spin off and they needed to somehow bring Nate back to Richmond.

Nate's dad also has a total personality transplant along the way here too, so it's a larger problem that makes me think they had something else in mind for how Nate's arc in S3 was going to go that had to get rewritten, but it's one of several pieces of S3 that were really badly done. Maybe if S1 hadn't been so well written it wouldn't stand out how uneven S3 was, but here we are.

Anyway, no redemption for Nate Shelley, sexist bullying asshole. May he die violently in a fire and burn forever.

[blackbozo]

TW: Vent Post.

Hey so uhm.. This is a vent post so if you don't wanna see that, keep scrolling.

I don't really know where to really.. begin with this. But basically, I'm just tired.

I feel tired, I feel dead inside most of the time when I'm alone. I feel like a husk. I'm so tired of going to school, where I get bullied pretty much all the time.

It's not that I hate my school. The teachers are nice, my friends are nice but.. it doesn't really do much.

Most of my school year so far has been just filled with being bullied.

At this point, most days there's only one thing that keeps me going. Not my friends or family, but someone very, very special to me.

And.. it's gotten really bad lately, this "relationship" I have with this person. I love him so, so damn much. Late September I confessed my feelings to him.

He doesn't feel the same.

And I haven't really.. accepted that. I've been.. really creepy. I do things to him I don't do to anyone else.. I say things to him that I don't say to anyone else.

And I'm scared, for him. I'm scared he'll get so tired of me and my bullshit that he'll block me. And I honestly wouldn't know what to do with myself.

I've developed extremely terrible attachment issues to this person. We met on Wattpad and just talked. I didn't see his face, he didn't see mind. We bonded over fictional crushes and fan-fiction.. and it was great and fine and normal.. Except I wasn't normal. I liked him back then.. a lot.

But then he disappeared. For 10 months.

10. Months. I suffered without him.

The whole reason I'm making this post is so I don't really say this to him, cause I don't want him to feel bad, or hate me. He left unwillingly.

He wrote smut and his parents found out and they grounded him.

But I thought he left because of me. That I was too creepy, too weird, too clingy. I thought he died. And.. I thought I was gonna move on, but nope. Early September he came back, and said he had moved to tumblr, here.

That's the whole reason I made this account, to talk to him.

To be friends again.

And it's been fine. We've been roleplaying a lot in our dms, but we always did what I wanted, which he got upset over because it wasn't fair. I didn't blame him.

But.. I thought he hated me. I thought he was gonna block me.

Some nights I would cry when he'd go offline for the night, others I'd just do something else.

But that night, I selfharmed. It was the third time I had over him. Not because I was mad at him, I was mad at myself.

I still feel like I deserved it, like it should've done something really bad, but I didn't.

I'm not okay without him, and I won't be okay without him.

Some days in the middle of school I think how he could just.. die. And I'd have no idea. He could just poof and be gone forever.

I still cry about that thought sometimes.

It doesn't help with my dad fucking sucking.

He makes me miserable. I get he's a single dad with anger issues, but he's not even trying to stop sometimes.

He smokes marijuana, which isn't terrible, but it's extremely illegal in our state.

My mom's alive, but she can't take care of me. I have a half brother and half sister, both of which are older than me.

They recently got evicted and I'm still worried about them.

And I feel unwanted by her. and by my siblings. I've tried so many damn times to just hangout and talk.

Y'know, be a family despite their situation.

I'm not asking for money either by the way, it's just what's going on.

I feel like a damn screw up all the time, like my entire family hates me. My friends hate me. My whole school hates me.

I hate myself.

I hate being alive, I hate everything and everyone, I just never say anything, because one, they'd yell at me, and two they'd be hurt. Because my feelings are invalid until I say something about them that's negative.

And I also live with my grandma. I love her, but she's been fucking driving me insane. I've had to help her with pretty much everything lately, and I get screamed at and called an asshole if I don't drop everything to help her in the next 10 seconds. And then she goes to her room and cries and I always have to apologize, even if I didn't even do anything.

And there's another thing.

I feel like I can't do a single damn thing without being judged.

Who I like, what I like, whatever.

What I eat, how I sleep, the stuff I watch.

The things I enjoy.

It's all judged and frowned apon by fucking everyone. They say they like me, but they don't fucking show it.

I'm so damn done being a people pleaser for everyone, but then if I'm not everyone hates me.

I can't control anything either. I know I'm still a child but I'm almost 13. My dad treats me like my input doesn't matter at all.

He's been trying to convince me to move out, when we don't have to.

He just wants to get away from my grandma, which is fair sometimes, but it's still mean.

He makes me feel like I don't matter, like I'm not a person. He's told me that basically my input doesn't matter cause I'm a child.

I'm so damn tired of everything and everyone.

I'm tired.